Broken Mirrors
by the ramblin rose
Summary: AU Caryl fic. When broken people encounter each other, is it possible for them to glue the pieces back together? This is very AU. Carol, Daryl, and Sophia are all broken people who live in very different worlds, but when those worlds unexpectedly collide, can they find healing in themselves through healing each other? Carol Daryl Sophia, other characters may play in later.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: OK, this is an AU fic. It's completely and totally AU. I own nothing from the Walking Dead except my love for the characters. I make no money off of it, no infringement intended, and so on and so forth. This is just for fun and entertainment value, that's all.**

**This is eventually a Caryl fic, but in many places Daryl and Carol will both be, probably, more than a little OOC. The Sophia that will be in this story will be very, very, very OOC, pretty much to the fact of simply being an OC. **

**I'm giving it a try, since I love to have way too many irons in the fire no matter what I'm doing. The little idea has been pinballing through my mind, though, so I thought I'd see what you thought of it and what would become of it when I took it from being just an idea to being something concrete.**

**The chapters, as is normal for me, will probably be on the shorter side until I fall into the rhythm of the fic. I'll update whenever I can…I have to go with my moods when I write, that's just how it is. **

**I know it will take us a bit to get rolling well, but I hope you enjoy it. I'll give the warning that it may be a little "darker" in places than some of what you're used to with me, at least at the beginning. You also get the warning that domestic violence, physical abuse, verbal abuse, etc. will be talked about and "take place" in the fic. The one thing I can say is that even though it may be alluded to, I will not write rape in detail. I may mention it, and I'll give trigger warnings if and when I do, but I don't do the detailed stuff on that. It's not my cup of tea at all to write that. **

**Let me know what you think. I know it's early, and you don't have much to go on yet, but let me know what you're thinking. I'll try to update soon. **

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Carol drummed her fingers on the countertop in the darkness and willed the coffee pot to percolate faster than it was. There wasn't any reason to turn any of the lights on. She would have known every square inch of this house, not that was any kind of a mansion or anything, blind. She'd spent fifteen years living here, and that was almost as long as she'd spent in any one place having left her parents' house when she was eighteen.

She had gotten the house almost six years ago, when her ex-husband had finally gone to prison where he belonged. She'd kept silent for all the years that she was married to him about his abuse, but finally it blew up in his face when he simply got too heavy handed and the neighbors had called the police. If they hadn't, Carol knew she'd probably be dead…and if she had managed to survive, she'd still be under his oppressive thumb.

But she wasn't. She was free from him and he was sporting the lovely orange jumpsuits provided to him by the county. As he'd been doing for two months shy of six years.

Carol celebrated the anniversary of Ed going to prison with more rigor than most people celebrate their wedding anniversaries. It meant far more to her, actually, than her wedding anniversary had. She'd considered, for far too long, her wedding anniversary to be like an anniversary to her imprisonment and to her torture. Ed going to prison had freed her from that, or at least from his overwhelming presence.

She couldn't really say that she was free from Ed, though, and she didn't know if it would ever be possible to be free from him. Ed had told her a million times that she'd never escape him, that she would always _belong_ to him, and she had to admit to herself that she believed him.

His hands weren't on her body any longer, and all the physical wounds had healed and scarred over, but the physical wounds weren't really the ones that hurt so much. The broken bones, the bruises, the burns, all those things faded with time. It was the rest of it that never seemed to go away. It just lingered there, in the back of her mind, keeping her tied to him each and every day in some way or another.

She'd learned her lessons well from him. She had etched into her brain each and every thing he wanted her to remember. They were a part of her now. She wasn't sure she'd ever let them go, even though she would have liked to have known what it was like to live without them.

He'd gone to prison, and she'd been divorced from him, and that should have been it. For all intents and purposes, her life was no longer linked to Ed Peletier. She'd gotten the house, she'd gotten the car, and she'd gotten a decent sum of money that they declared "financial compensation". The money was compensation for the years of abuse that she suffered at his hands. It was supposed to make better everything that he had ever said and had ever done. She'd almost laughed in the lawyer's face when presented with the sum.

It had been like being told exactly what your life was worth, and finding out that all in all, you were worth about as much as the man had told you that you were worth…nothing.

Still, she'd taken the house, the car, the pathetic pile of money that put a dollar sign on her soul…because beggars can't be choosers and battered housewives have very little to call their own when the angry shadow is gone out of the room.

And now she lived a quiet life.

The house remained much as it had when Ed had been there. She'd replaced the broken furniture with thrift store finds that she spent her free time fixing up. It was her only real release to bury herself in one project or another. She'd burned most of the photos, though a few still remained here and there, tucked away in boxes and such because she'd simply been too tired to go and look for them. She'd considered simply ripping Ed out of them, but she didn't want pictures of herself either. She didn't want to look at how much she'd changed…how cruel the years with him had been to her. In fact, she didn't want to look at it so much that her final alteration to the house had been to remove every single mirror and place them in the attic. She'd only kept one in the bathroom, and she looked in it as little as possible, hating nothing more than the sight of her reflection staring back at her, taunting her.

Carol had a decent job, at least it suited her. She worked in the library of the small town in which she lived, about an hour outside Atlanta. The city paid her and the library continued in business mostly because the town council believed it would be a shame to have a town without a library. She could say that there were relatively few patrons of the place and she spent much of her time there alone, hidden among the stacks of dusty books.

She was the only one to read the books. She had an affinity for them. She almost loved the books emotionally. In the books she could find anything and everything that she'd never had in life and that she'd never have in life. She could lose herself among the pages and in the tales spun by authors long dead or in the new pages of the arrivals dropped off every now and again by the mayor who tried to keep the place "up to date" in hopes that reading would one day come into style for the younger generation that seemed to moving farther and farther away from it, lulled by the hum of technology and progress.

Carol supposed that most people would have hated the solitude of her library position, but that was probably what she valued most about it. People just didn't come very often to the library, and when they did, they preferred to be alone for the most part and didn't bother her unless it was to, very rarely, check out some tomb or another they actually wanted to take home with them.

Because of her job, now, she was almost invisible, just as she had been before, and being invisible was pretty comfortable to her.

Finally, as the sun began to flood the outdated kitchen of the small house, the coffee maker rumbled and growled to say that its job was done and the smell of coffee invaded Carol's nose. She slid her coffee cup over from the edge of the sink where it waited patiently for her every night and filled it with the dark liquid. She sipped at it and thought to herself that soon she'd need to get ready. It would be time to head from the quiet of her house to the quiet of the library.

It wasn't like getting ready for her was any big challenge. It mostly consisted of pulling on whatever was clean, whether it fit or not, and running her fingers through her short hair.

Once, not long after being married, she had made some mention of going to the beauty salon in town and getting her hair done. Ed had railed against her about her vanity and had accused her of being whorish and hoping to attract the attention of some of the men that she only knew as living in his mind. He'd beat her to teach her the lesson of thinking that she could do that…could ask for men to look at her…and then he'd given her his own hairstyle, cutting her hair off with the dull kitchen scissors.

As a result, she'd simply left it like that. He'd told her time and time again that she was ugly, undesirable, and no man would ever look at her…and he'd been right. She wasn't anything worthy of getting any man's attention. Ed had been the only man in her life, and look at what his attention had done for her.

She didn't feel the need to try to make herself something that she wasn't. There was no need to fuss with her hair or worry about her clothes, or even to wear makeup like other women did. Those things were for women who were pretty, and for women that wanted to enhance that beauty. She didn't have the beauty, so there was no need to try and pretend that she did. It would have been like hanging crystal chandeliers in a sinking ship.

That was another reason that she didn't need the mirrors. There was no reason to look at her reflection anyway. When she'd been with Ed, her face and her body had always looked back at her, covered in the marks that he left. He'd strip her naked sometimes, stand her in front of the full length mirror that she hated the most. The one that used to hang on the back of the bedroom door, and he'd talk to her. He'd go inch by inch over her entire body and show her…prove to her…that she was nothing and she was ugly. The mirror didn't lie either. It confirmed all the truths that he whispered in her ear and for all its years of taunting her it had been the first she'd banished to the attic.

No, getting ready was nothing special for Carol. She could be ready within five minutes and walking out the door to work if that was what she needed to happen. No one cared anyway. No one was looking at her, and the ones who did see her probably wished they could erase the image from their minds. She knew that she would erase it from her own mind if she could.

Carol finished her coffee and put the cup in the sink to be washed after she got back from work. It was cold outside and she walked through the house dressing in a pair of jeans she found on the floor, a bulky sweater that she'd acquired from some thrift shop or yard sale, and her worn sneakers. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair and then rushed out the door, snatching her purse over her shoulder.

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Daryl wiped his hands on his pants, not that his pants were any cleaner than his hands had been, and excused himself to the corner of the shop to light a cigarette and fumble with the half broken drink machine that was theoretically supposed to provide them with beverages but mostly only gave them headaches.

The body shop was a three car number run by a man that was only sober half the time. Daryl really ran the place, truth be told, but his paycheck didn't reflect the fact that the only reason the shitty shop brought in a quarter of the money it did was because everyone knew that Daryl Dixon was the best body man in the county.

He'd had plenty of time to earn his reputation, though, and plenty of time to hone his skills. His first job in a shop had been when he was fourteen and he'd been entrusted mostly with the job of pushing dust around a dirty floor with an ancient broom. Later, though, he'd found out that he had little use for school, but he enjoyed working on the cars and bikes that rolled through.

He'd moved a few times, but his reputation followed him. No matter where the hell he'd ended up…although he'd really only moved about in a forty or fifty mile radius…his reputation was on his heels. On the one hand, he was haunted by the reputation of being nothing but a piece of white trash that came from parents who were the same…and on the other he was the best body man there was. That was the thing about reputations, good or bad, earned or not, they seemed to stick the hell with you.

He shared a single wide trailer with his dead beat brother that was parked not fifty feet from the shop that he was currently employed at. The trailer had been part of the bargain that had brought him there. He paid the utilities, but the quality lot behind the dumpsters and the run down trailer was rent free.

He and his brother both worked at the shop, but Daryl could barely call what Merle did working. Mostly Merle did just enough to merit the pathetic paycheck that he earned, and the majority of that he spent on booze. The shop was just a place to work to Merle, but to Daryl it was more.

The shop, whichever one he happened to be employed at, was Daryl's whole world. He didn't give two fucks about anything outside of the space. His entire life had been something akin to one of the tear in your beer country songs that filtered over the radio while they worked, and it left him with little desire, even at the ripe age of thirty four, to go on even trying to experience anything more from life. The songs had taught him one thing. It would never fucking end well, so he might as well not even set himself up for the disappointment.

The shop, though, that was something different. It was the only place that Daryl had ever really felt that he was worth anything. His parents had been trash, and that was actually promoting them from what they really were. They'd drank and fought themselves into oblivion and Daryl hadn't even minded the fact so much that his mother and father both drank themselves to an early death by the time he was seventeen. He didn't miss them, and he was pretty damn sure the world didn't miss them either.

They'd raised him and Merle both to believe that they wouldn't be anything and they couldn't do anything right. They'd both been born, in his parents' minds, with their hands on backwards and their heads up their asses.

Both of his parents had been brutes, and Daryl could hardly remember a kind word being spoken to him in his life from either of them. People naturally put Merle and Daryl down, too, because of the impressive mess his parents had made of their lives. No matter what the hell you did good in life, no matter how much praise it was worth, your virtue was never enough to wash away completely the sins of your parents. For that, Daryl hated people, and for that he avoided them as much as possible when not under the context of cars.

As far as Daryl could see, though, Merle was living up to his full potential, fulfilling his parents predictions one soggy ass day at a time, but Daryl felt like he was different, at least in some ways.

Most of his life was a shit show for sure, but in the shop he was the king. He could turn chicken shit into chicken salad so to speak. No matter how bad the thing looked when it rolled in, no matter how rusted out and worthless it was or how severely it had been damaged, once he got his hands on it he could turn it into something beautiful. He could, somehow, coax out of the metal and fiberglass all the potential that was there. When it left his hands and rolled back out the shop, it was something to behold. That magic was what had earned him the only part of his reputation that he was proud of.

And so with life a bust and no desire to go chasing after rainbows, Daryl buried himself in the shop. It was his entire life. As part of the deal to work there, he'd gained his own set of keys to the place and access to work there any damn time he pleased. That allowed him to sink all of his free time into doing the one damn thing that made his life worth living.

Daryl loved restoration. He loved it more than anything else in the world. He worked on cars that had been wrecked, taking the dings out of doors and hammering out hoods to survive, but what he really got drunk off of wasn't the cheap whiskey his brother drank. It was the joy of finding some forgotten treasure in a junkyard somewhere and bringing it back to life. The bigger the challenge, the greater the reward. He'd buy clunkers, would-be classics being his favorite, and he'd work in his free hours, often giving up sleep for progress, to bring the things to their full potential.

He sold nearly everything he fixed, and it was always for an impressive profit. His interest wasn't so much in owning the beauties, as it was in proving to himself that he could rise to the challenge. The more impressive the car, the more he felt like he'd done something worthwhile when it rolled away, shining like a new penny, the apple of someone's eye.

One of the best parts of Daryl's job was that he had little contact with people beyond looking over the vehicles for estimations, and returning the keys when the job was done. Mac, the man who owned the business and theoretically managed it, did most all the customer service bullshit that had to be done. He liked shooting the shit and that saved Daryl from it. Daryl's reputation brought in the business, Mac handled it, and Daryl stayed behind the scenes…his only focus being to work his magic on the bodies of whatever rolled through the stalls.

Right now it was the dead middle of the day, though, and that was Daryl's least favorite time of the day. The car he was working on now belonged to some man…some banker…who had a little altercation with another car. Apparently the man was at a stop sign and considered it his turn to go, while the other car didn't agree. The wreck wasn't bad, though, and Daryl knew it wasn't a big job for him. He just hated the fact that the car was simply a boring black BMW…nothing really impressive no matter how great a job he did.

The days were like that, though. Daryl had to spend them on whatever wreck rolled in. The night was really what he really waited for. As soon as it was clocking out time he'd roll in his latest find, currently a junked 1940 Ford Coupe that he intended to shave down and restore, and then he'd really be happy. Under the cover of night, he could do what the hell he loved. He could invest his time an energy into something that would be a real beauty because of it. He just had to make it through the days first.

Daryl Dixon was a kindred spirit to anything with a motor, that much was true, but he could never bring himself to give a shit about people. Cars, bikes, and even the other odds and ends that came to him, they never judged. People were a different story. He knew the only time that people looked at him like he was worth the dirt that was sticking to his shoes was when he was handing them the keys to their precious vehicles. Then there was a smile on their face and praise on their lips. Daryl wasn't fooled though, he knew that all faded quickly and was replaced by their low grade opinion of him just as soon as they drove off, not even bothering to give him a second glance in their rearview mirrors.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Wow! I'm amazed, flattered, everything by your response so far! I'm glad to see there's at least some interest in this fic and I hope I don't let you down as I go. Your feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated and loved. **

**I'm giving you a second chapter. It's still not much, but you at least get a little more to the story. I hope to have more for you out soon, but it's late here and tomorrow starts early.**

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.**

***Warning for possible triggers ahead for domestic abuse and some of its possible side effects.***

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It's in the past. It's behind you. Leave it there. Don't worry about it. Leave the past where it belongs.

That's the well-meant mantra about life isn't it? Once you've gone down a road then leave it behind you. You've made it over the obstacles, you've travelled the miles. Look ahead and look toward the future. What's done is done.

All these things get said and repeated over and over. They're applied to every aspect of every day. We can't change the past, but we can change the future. The past should just be forgotten.

But that's not the reality of life at all. Not for anyone. Life is like looking straight ahead of you most of the time. You see what you haven't seen before. You see what could be, what might be just ahead if you keep on moving. The problem, though, is that life has a way of throwing mirrors up in front of your face at nearly every turn. You look ahead then, fooled and not expecting the glass in front of you, but then it's there and you can't see what lies ahead any longer. You see only what lies behind you. It's a reflection, of course…a distorted image of what's no longer in your direct line of vision, but it's still there. It hasn't really gone anywhere at all. It's not so much behind you as it's always at your back.

That's the real truth about life. The truth that you don't read in any of the fancy inspirational quotes scrawled on greeting cards and in books.

As humans we may never see ourselves except in photographs and mirrors…and both are reminders of our pasts since neither captures present nor future.

Good or bad, the past is always with us, it's always behind us, and it's always in how we see ourselves. It can't be escaped.

Carol sat in her kitchen, the receiver of the telephone pressed against her ear, and life held a mirror up for her.

A year after Ed went to prison, Carol was trying to piece together her life. At the time she'd had some grand notion that she would pick up, somehow, where she left off when the nuptials she thought were marking the beginning of something grand for her had stripped her of really all the hopes and dreams she had left over from the illusions of childhood.

She had gone, in the beginning, to a support group for battered wives. It was supposed to help her heal. She was supposed to surround herself with women of a similar experience and together they would rise up like metaphorical phoenixes and they would become new and whole. Each of them would continue on with their lives, leaving the past buried behind them where it belonged, and they would embrace in the future.

Except that really wasn't what happened. The group sessions, in Carol's opinions, had been nothing more than giant pity parties for everyone involved. She didn't want to tell her story because she didn't want them all looking at her with the same sympathetic eyes. She didn't want the coos and the hugs and the promises that it would all get better. She didn't want sympathy at all, and she didn't believe that it would get better. It was behind her, after all, and Ed was in prison. What more could she want out of life? The chapter of the book was closed, and she'd put it on the shelf where it belonged.

In her private therapy sessions, things had been different. She'd had a therapist, Rosie, who was focused on the future. Everything she talked about sounded like it had come off one of those inspirational calendars, the kind intended to make each new day better and brighter than the one before. And the first thing that each of them was supposed to do was to come up with some way in which they could connect with the future they'd each seen for themselves while also contributing, in some way, to their own healing process.

Carol remembered the activity well. She'd been stumped with how she might, in any way at all, reconnect with the future that she'd once envisioned for her life. The future that she'd envisioned, all those years ago…before the nightmare that life with Ed had been…had been a future that might have come directly from a Norman Rockwell painting or from the pages of some romance novel.

Carol was going to be the beautiful, adored, and doting wife. She was going to be the caring and nurturing mother. But that had been before she'd realized the truth about herself. She wasn't beautiful and she'd never be adored. She had no desire to be any man's wife after Ed had blown through her life like a tornado, and therefore she had little hope of motherhood.

Still, her therapist had urged her, after a dozen or so sessions, not to give up entirely on the concept. She could foster, the woman had said. She could act as a temporary mother for a child…until a better home was found.

Even then, Carol had thought that it wouldn't take much for services to find a better home for any child than her own. She had nothing to offer any child, no matter how much she might have once believed she had maternal inclinations.

At the therapist's urgings, however, Carol had finally decided to fill out the papers to foster. She'd done her required hours of training. For a while, as she thought more and more that it might happen, she'd begun pleased with the idea. She didn't know how well she'd do at caring for a child, but she wanted to believe that the people at the training sessions were right and she really was worth something, at least to a child who had nothing.

Time passed, though, and Carol never heard a thing about the papers that she'd turned in. Her paperwork had likely been discarded. The people who had worked placing children could probably tell from just reading the pages that Carol really wasn't fit for the lofty ideas placed in her head by a well-meaning therapist.

And so she'd forgotten about it. She'd dismissed, entirely, the whole idea. She'd quit the therapy sessions and left the group to cry on each other's shoulders about things that couldn't be changed. She'd left them all to think about how wonderful their futures would be. She'd let it sink into them that the future really wasn't some magical place that they were going to find where all their dreams come true. It was just another moment in time…one that would quickly become the past and fade into the background with all the other details, both wonderful and horrifying, that made them who they were.

Except now that moment from the past was reflected back to her. The memory of turning in those papers, completing those hours, and wondering if her life would change for the better like the nauseatingly sunny therapist suggested it would, came rushing back.

After all these years, they wanted to know if she was interested in fostering a child that needed to be placed immediately.

Carol only half heard the details of what the woman was saying to her. The child was a girl, Sophia, and she needed to be placed as quickly as possible. Would Carol be willing to take her? She was desperate for placement.

She must be desperate…her case must be pretty much hopeless. That would be the only reason that Carol could think that after all these years they had blown the dust off the pile of papers that she'd filled out and thought of placing the girl with her.

Only someone who had absolutely nothing…no chance at all…would seem like a "perfect fit" for Carol.

And now that someone, apparently, was a little girl named Sophia that needed to be picked up as soon as possible if Carol was willing to foster the girl until she could be placed in a more permanent home.

Carol considered turning the offer down. Financially the child wouldn't be a burden, but Carol wasn't sure that she believed the lies of the therapist any longer. She wasn't fit to be a foster parent. She wasn't fit, really, for anything of the sort. The worst thing that could happen to this child, probably, was that she end up in the care of someone like Carol. It was hard to mentor someone to become something, when you'd never been anything yourself.

Somehow, though, things got lost in translation somewhere and Carol found herself giving into the woman's pleas and the guarantees that the placement was temporary. It was even more temporary than the word could imply. They'd actively search for a new location for the girl, if only Carol would house her until something became available.

When Carol hung up the phone, still processing what she'd just accepted, she realized what a grave mistake she'd made. She had no idea how old the child was, but if she remembered correctly, the somewhat optimistic side of herself that existed back then had requested a young child. A baby or a toddler. She'd checked, she thought she remembered, three or under as her preference.

Carol climbed the stairs to the second story of the house where the two abandoned rooms stood empty and waiting…though she wasn't quite sure what they were waiting for. She hadn't been up to the second level in years, and she grimaced a little at the cobwebs that clung to the corners of the stairwell.

She opened the door to the first room and stepped inside, her eyes casting over the furniture. Everything exactly as she'd left it the last time she'd left the room, though she'd been a lot different then. She walked around it, running her fingers over the railing of the crib, touching the bow of the bear that sat in the rocking chair that had never been used.

The nursery was untouched. Still haunted, a little, by the tiny soul that never resided there. She'd put too much hope into the room when she'd put it together, against Ed's wishes, sneaking pieces of furniture here and there. He'd only been in the room once…and the first time that he was there was the last time that she'd stepped over the threshold.

The thing about babies, was, that they were much more fragile than their mothers. At barely five months pregnant she remembered that beating well. Each detail of the recovery played over and over in her mind a million times for years after…it had been a long time, though, since she'd thought about it. A broken wrist…a broken collarbone…three broken ribs…a busted cheek. Really not all that bad for as angry as he'd been. Child's play for some of his rampages. Except it hadn't been quite the uneventful experience for the baby.

She'd never known it, not really…she never once held it in her arms. Even at the hospital they'd insisted that she not see the child, even though she'd requested it. Ed had taken her that night. He'd driven her to the emergency room, gallant knight that he was, and he'd played the game well. The heartbroken father, worried over his wife and his child when she'd suffered such a tragic accident.

Carol shivered. She'd meant to dissemble the room a thousand times, but she'd never brought herself to do it. She'd simply left it as it was the night he'd drug her out of it.

When she'd let herself be falsly optimistic, for the brief spell when she believed that she'd become a foster parent, she figured the room might get some use after all. Children might stay in that room, although their stays might be brief, and they might wipe away the haunting memory that hung over the place. She'd forgotten that hope too, though, when time passed without a call and she realized that she wasn't going to be chosen…not when there were so many better options.

She supposed, though, now the room might be of some use. The girl, Sophia, might sleep in the crib. She might hug the bears that had never been held by a child. She might, during her brief time there, help to make the room feel less like the tomb it had become and more like the beacon of hope that it had been intended to be.

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Carol woke up earlier than normal. She'd agreed to pick the child up and she didn't want to be late and leave a bad first impression on the authorities that had taken five years to make contact with her.

She drank her coffee in a hurry, pulling on a long sleeved shirt and a hoodie that supported some sports team she'd never heard of to go with the jeans she'd worn the day before. She stepped out the house, tousling her hair a little to make it look less like she'd let the pillow do all the styling for her.

She drove with the radio off, in silence, thinking about what she was daring to do. She didn't know how this would result, but she was feeling something in her chest that she hadn't felt in so long she might have considered it to be something like indigestion instead of what it was. She was beginning to feel somewhat optimistic…perhaps even happy.

Through the night she'd thought about the child. She would be young and she wouldn't know to judge Carol for all the things that everyone else knew to hold her accountable for. She wouldn't look at her with the same knowing eyes that Carol saw staring back from the people she encountered in the library…the people that knew about her and about Ed.

The child would be just that, a child. An infant even. She'd be too young to care that Carol wasn't anything to look at and too young to know what a worthless existence she'd lived.

As she neared the place where she was supposed to pick up the child, Carol began to worry. She didn't have a car seat and she hadn't stopped to purchase one. She didn't know how old the child would be, so she wouldn't have any idea what to buy. The woman on the phone had failed to give her any instructions such as that, and she could only hope that it meant the place was prepared and certain necessities were provided. If that weren't the case, she supposed, she could find out what she needed to know and make an impromptu trip to pick up something.

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"I know you sounded hesitant on the phone, and I can understand your feelings," the social worker said, leading Carol down a hall in a building that she couldn't imagine housed children. "We're looking for another place for Sophia. The truth is, though, that she's been through a number of foster homes already. It's becoming difficult to place her."

_So you're sending her to the last possible place that anyone would want to go…but she's out of options._ Carol thought. She wasn't exactly surprised by the confession of the woman. She had figured that the only way she'd end up with a child, especially after the long silence, was if there just wasn't any other option.

"We're very glad that you're willing to give her a chance, though. That's really all she needs, you know? Someone who's willing to give her a chance. You may even find that you get along quite well," the woman continued.

Carol couldn't imagine what it was that was so disagreeable about a small child that no one had wanted to keep the little thing, but she supposed that she'd soon find out. She hoped that she could at least tolerate the girl, though she was becoming worried now, until they could find somewhere else to put her.

"I don't have a car seat or anything," Carol said. "I was hoping that you had something here that I could use."

The social worker stopped in the hall outside a room. She looked at Carol for a moment as though she'd just asked her where they kept their unicorns.

"I'm sorry?" The woman asked.

"A car seat," she said. "You didn't specify on the phone last night what I would need, so I'm afraid that I'm empty handed. I was hoping that you had them available."

"You won't need a car seat," the woman said, obviously a little amused.

Now it was Carol's turn to mirror the confusion of the woman. The woman didn't respond to her verbally though, at least not in the moment. She opened the door revealing a room that looked more like a place you'd stay at a nightmarish summer camp than something you'd want to call home. On one of the beds, that were really cots, sat a girl of at least fourteen years of age if she was a day old. She had red hair, and her pale skin was dusted in freckles. Carol couldn't see much of her face due to the fact that she was sitting so that only her profile was visible, staring at the floor or at her shoes.

"This is Sophia," the social worker said, motioning toward the girl.

Sophia looked up at Carol, something between a frown and a grimace on her face. Carol's eyes met Sophia's and Carol suddenly wondered what she'd gotten herself into and if it would be too late to back out of it now.

"Oh," Carol responded. "I…I wasn't expecting…" Carol stopped. The girl's frown deepened, but she hadn't spoken yet. Carol decided it was better to abandon her current train of thought.

"You were expecting a kid," Sophia finished.

"Well…" Carol stuttered.

"They're always expecting a kid," Sophia said. She stood up and Carol realized that she was almost as tall as she was.

"Sophia, this is Carol," the social worker said, smiling. She was the only one of them smiling.

"You wanna bring me back in a month or do we just skip the bull and you just go now…we'll both pretend this whole thing didn't happen," Sophia said.

Carol was struck for a moment. Part of her did consider running, but for some strange reason, perhaps the same reason she'd agreed to this mess in the first place the night before, she felt like she couldn't turn and walk away.

"It's nice to meet you," she stuttered out, not entirely believing herself. Carol wrestled a smile on her face. "Are you ready to go?"

Sophia looked at her blankly for a moment and then glanced at the social worker. She turned and opened the door to a wardrobe, heaving out a suitcase.

"I'm always ready to go," Sophia said. "Saves time that way."

She pushed through the door and past Carol and the social worker without another word, heading down the halls that Carol had recently travelled with the woman.

Carol turned to the social worker and the woman smiled at her, looking a little apologetic.

"Sophia has kind of a…troubled background," the woman said. "I promise, we'll look for something else as quickly as possible."

Carol nodded.

Sophia comes from a troubled background. She was running from her past. A past that followed her, apparently, from foster home to foster home. A past that was behind her…and always with her.

Carol nodded again at the social worker, not sure what to say. The paperwork was done and Sophia was headed toward the exit with her suitcase, the one that she never unpacked, in her hands. Carol sighed and started after her, wondering what the hell kind of Pandora's Box she'd just lifted the lid on.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Your responses have been overwhelming and I thank you for that. This is another short entry. We're still working on getting things rolling. It takes a bit.**

**I wanted to say, in case anyone should feel this way, that none of our characters should be judged too harshly. Each one of them, as we're going to see unfolding more and more, is dealing with their own demons and does so in their own way, but I consider none of the main three a villain. **

**I hope you enjoy. I'll try to get some more out soon and get a little deeper into things.**

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The social worker had passed to Carol, as she was leaving, a folder of information. Carol hadn't sorted through it yet, not wanting to be someone that flipped through Sophia's life, metaphorically, right before her eyes. Carol knew what it felt like to have everything you'd done and everything that society considered as pertinent information about you confined to someone's manila folder. The visual contemplation of it was horrifying and Carol didn't want to take part in reducing another human, at least not in their presence, to a stack of recyclable facts.

On the ride back to the house, Sophia sat in her seat staring out the window, giving off the overall air of someone who is being driven to their execution. Carol could feel her looking at her from time to time, up and down, even without glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.

"So how old are you, anyway?" Sophia asked. "You know the Seattle Supersonics don't even exist anymore, right?"

Carol was caught off guard by the girl's voice in such a proximity. She couldn't comprehend for a moment what the girl was asking, at least not all of it. Her mind was too wrapped up in cursing her for what she was doing and wondering what the hell had come over her to think that in a billion years this might be even a remotely decent idea. In theory she'd once wanted to be a parent…but that was a different world and certainly a different image of how the whole thing would happen…and in practice, well, she'd killed more plants than she cared to admit and she'd never had a goldfish that lived beyond a year or so.

"What? I'm sorry?" Carol asked.

"How – old – are – you?" Sophia drew out. If rolling eyes had a sound, it filled the car at the moment.

"Thirty three," Carol responded. "How old are you?" Carol realized that she knew that obviously Sophia was not the tiny ward she thought she might end up with, but she still had no real clue about how old the figured in her passenger seat was.

"Almost sixteen," Sophia responded. "Why the hell are you still holding onto a Supersonics sweatshirt?"

"What?" Carol asked.

"Oh my God! Are you deaf?" Sophia exclaimed.

Carol tried to steady her nerves. She closed her eyes for a moment. What kind of nightmare had she ended up in?

"I'm not deaf," she said, trying to sound as pleasant as she could without letting it sneak out in her voice that she was already fatigued with the girl. "What are you talking about, though? And don't say hell."

Sophia growled and Carol was instantly sorry for everything she'd done to her parents during her teenage years. Were they still with her, she'd probably phone her parents upon her arrival home and tell them that she regretted they eyerolling, the huffing, and every time she thought that she was being raised by the only humans on the planet a step above cavemen.

"Your – sweatshirt…" Sophia drawled out. "Why – are – you – still – wearing – that?"

Carol glanced down for a second, taking in the shirt that she'd pulled on. She hadn't really ever paid the thing any attention. She didn't know where it had come from. Probably a yard sale or a thrift store. That was the only place she really ever acquired garments and her only stipulation for them was normally that they not have a half million holes and that they be somewhere within the range of the fifteen or so different sizes that she considered suitable to her body.

"I don't know," Carol said. "It's not really even mine. I got it at a thrift store. I don't care about sports. Why? Are sports important to you?"

Could this be an in? Carol hated sports, actually. She despised them. Ed had loved everything from Nascar to golf and spent most of his time at the house in front of the television crushing beer cans he drained and watching some sports fiasco after another that she hadn't paid attention to. She'd hated it because he seemed to take the games personally and he always rooted for someone…for something. A loss on television could make for a worse day than usual for her. So she had always hated the sound of the commentators' voices drifting through the speakers.

"No," Sophia responded. "On of the men that fostered me one time was really into that shit, though. Talked about it all the damn time. Couldn't help but pick some of it up."

"Language," Carol said. She might not be fit, really, to have any kind of guardianship over the girl beside her, but she knew it wasn't fitting of an almost sixteen year old girl to be fine tuning her sailor's mouth.

Sophia huffed and got quiet, audibly slamming herself back against the car seat. She crossed her arms and resumed staring out the window. She remained that way until they'd almost reached the house.

"So ya married?" Sophia asked finally.

"No," Carol said, shaking her head and not daring to take her eyes off the road for a moment. She hadn't expected to have to answer about her marital status to the child she was going to pick up. She was supposed to be bringing home some little thing that looked at her without judgement, and so far she was bringing home a snarly teen who had done nothing but judge her since the moment their eyes had fallen on one another.

"Dyke?" Sophia asked.

"What?" Carol asked.

"Are – you – gay?" Sophia asked. "Jesus! You know it's going to be a long fucking couple of weeks if I have to draw you pictures for every damn thing."

Carol shook her head and closed her eyes for a second.

"No, I'm not gay…and you don't have to draw me pictures. A little warning as to where your conversation is headed, though, might be appreciated…and watch your language," Carol said.

Carol was grateful when they pulled into the driveway of the house. In fact, she thought it might be the happiest she'd ever been to see the structure. At least it meant getting out of the car and into a larger space with Sophia. She didn't know how long the girl would be staying with her, but she was already hoping, even though she didn't want to, that the agency found another place for her…one more suiting perhaps…as soon as possible. Carol was not cut out for this and she cursed whatever voice inside her head had told her that she was.

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Carol led Sophia up to the second story of the house. Sophia walked with her suitcase hanging from her hand, probably judging the cobwebs that Carol hadn't had time to sweep away from the corners. She'd clean the house as soon as possible, but her guest, for however short her stay was, had been unexpected and it was evident.

Carol passed by the nursery that she'd thought last night the girl was going to occupy. The door was closed to the room, holding back the air of unfulfilled expectation that lingered there. She made her way, instead to the other room on the floor. It was a simple room that had been intended to be a guest room of sorts, though no guest had ever actually stayed there. The room had been empty since the furniture had been moved there. It was used, for the most part, as storage and a few boxes were neatly stacked in the corner. Ed hadn't wanted Carol to have friends while they were together, and since he'd gone on his vacation courtesy of the state of Georgia, Carol hadn't exactly formed any relationships with anyone that would want to stay in the stale little room.

"What's in that room?" Sophia asked, hanging out the doorway of the guest room that she would occupy and eying the closed door.

"Nothing," Carol said. "It's just empty."

Carol didn't consider it a complete lie. What did the girl need to know about the furniture that was there? It was useless anyway. It always had been and it always would be until the day that Carol finally pulled herself together enough to drag the stuff down the stairs and leave it on the lawn for someone who could use it to pass by and pick it up.

Sophia shrugged a little and looked around the room that she'd be occupying. Carol looked at it too and tried to imagine what it might look like to someone who had never seen it before. The room was like everything else…plain and unremarkable. If Sophia had been hoping to win any prizes with either her new guardian or her new location, Carol feared the girl was sorely disappointed.

Sophia didn't look like she cared, though. She crossed the room and dropped her suitcase on the floor. She stood in the middle of the room, looking around blankly.

"I'll change the sheets for you. They haven't been changed in a while, and you'd probably liked some fresh ones," Carol said. She didn't bother to add that the sheets had been put on the bed almost the same time that Sophia had apparently been born. She almost cringed, herself, at the realization.

Sophia shrugged a little.

"Whatever," she said.

Carol felt tired. She felt more tired than she had in a long time. The day still had a few hours yet before she could get away with calling it a night, even under the guise of being an old person who needed to go to bed early. The shock and stress of the whole situation had worn her down, though, more than she'd expected it would and she'd found that interacting with Sophia was draining. She didn't know if it was something she'd become accustomed to or not, but right now she knew that she only wanted to escape the girl's presence and relocate somewhere quiet and alone.

"I'll order pizza for dinner," Carol said.

Sophia looked at her, rolling her blue eyes toward her.

"And then what?" Sophia asked.

"And then we'll eat it…" Carol ventured. "Do you not like pizza?"

Carol was really suggesting the pizza because she was too tired to cook, and she really didn't keep much in the house because cooking for one could often be more of a hassle than it was worth. Of course because of that ideal she'd lost a few pounds, but Ed had always criticized her weight so she welcomed the shedding of inches. If her new house mate didn't like pizza, though, she supposed that she could rifle through the contents of the cabinet and come up with something.

"With some kind of lame 'family night' bull or are we just going to see this for what it is?" Sophia asked. She planted one hand on her hip, her knobby elbow sticking out to the side.

"What is it?" Carol asked.

At this point she'd welcome any kind of definition, honestly. She was only able to define this as a bad decision on her part. It was something she'd decided to do at the spur of the moment and she'd never been very good at making spur of the moment decisions.

Sophia crossed the room and sat on the bed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I'm not your kid, you're not my mom…I'm here until they send me some place else and then we're both going to forget about each other. I've got less than three years and I'm done with all this shit," Sophia said.

"Oh," Carol said. She nodded a little. She needed time to process the whole thing. "I was really just talking about eating pizza." She decided that at the moment she didn't care to correct the girl's language. She didn't care to correct anything about the situation. All she wanted in the moment was to disappear into her room, close the door, and enjoy a book in silence instead of wondering how she'd stepped into this puddle.

"Fine," Sophia said.

"I'll order it," Carol offered. "There's a bathroom up here if you want to clean up. I'll change the sheets after I order the pizza. Make yourself at home…or whatever."

Carol turned around, leaving the girl to sulk in the room.

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Sophia waited until the woman had gone down the stairs to really walk around the room. It was dusty and decorated with too much floral shit in mauves and blues. Still, it was better than some of the places she'd been through.

The woman herself Sophia wasn't sure about.

She'd overheard some of the workers talking about what was really going on here. It was some kind of last strike. The only card remaining. Sophia had worked her way through nearly every foster home in the state of Georgia and she considered it a pretty damn big accomplishment considering she'd only been drowning in the system for going on five years.

There were all kinds too. Sophia was certain that she had seen everything that could be seen in her various "guardians". They painted pictures of themselves, though…pictures that the state liked. Most of them were going to be loving homes to Sophia, after all, they wanted to be foster parents. They were going to have game nights and shit like that. The pretty pictures of picnics and vacations and happy smiling people that filled up frames…that's what they wanted.

Most of all, though, they wanted something better.

They didn't want Sophia and she didn't half blame them. Her own parents hadn't wanted her. If they had, they wouldn't have been like they were…and she wouldn't have ended up in this ongoing train station nightmare.

What the foster parents wanted, of course, was the pink cheeked cherubs. The cooing, gurgling, diaper fillers that barely made it through the doors in the arms of a social worker before half a dozen foster families were damn near beating in the doors to fight each other to the death over the little shit factory. Everyone in the system knew that if you weren't out by five, you were going to have one hell of a time getting out until you turned eighteen or did something drastic enough to get a one way ticket to a correctional facility that would hold you until you could be released as a theoretically responsible member of the community.

Sophia had come into the system when she was almost eleven. Her dad had disappeared finally, flown coop for good she supposed. He'd threatened it her whole life. It was like his motto or his catchphrase. He was fucking outta there. He didn't need her mom and he sure as shit didn't need her. He'd gone a few times, and come back a few times, but eventually there wasn't any coming back. Her mother stuck it out, at least physically, for a little while after that, but Sophia really wasn't all that sorry when she had to call the hospital over what she thought might have been a fatal overdose and they'd finally taken her away.

As far as she knew, neither of her parents had ever bothered to find out about her again. Sometimes she heard other kids she met…who had ended up in the system other ways…talking about how they lie in bed sometimes and they dreamed that their real parents would come back for them. They'd fall down dramatically at the doorsteps and they'd beg and plead to have their precious child back. The kid would go home with the parents and live in the fairy tale life they spun for themselves in their imagination.

Sophia didn't imagine that at all. She imagined, more often than anything else, that her parents were dead. It was a much more realistic interpretation. Her mother probably died from that overdose, or another one, and her dad was probably shot somewhere for starting some fight with someone who wasn't going to back down to his mouth. They weren't ever coming back for her, and she wouldn't want them if they did. They never wanted her, and frankly the feeling had become more than mutual.

Coming into the system at eleven, though, was bad news for any kid still clinging like an idiot to the hope of a postcard perfect life. If you were in the system at eleven, you had less chance of finding a home than a dirty sock that had lost its mate. It was better, as Sophia had learned, to leave your bags packed because no matter how much the assholes that picked you up smiled for the social worker, and they were done with you the first chance they got. They were only playing nice to boost their chances of upgrading your ass for one of the next rosy faced babies that came through.

And if they did want you…at that age…then you had better watch the fuck out. That was when you found the real prizes that were hiding behind the masks they put on for the system.

Of course no one would ever believe you, especially not if you were labelled, a Sophia was, as "troubled".

That was a magical word. It was one of those words that automatically struck fear into the hearts of people. It simultaneously excused everything that Sophia could do, while also chaining her to the expectation that she would do something. Whether or not she was guilty, she was presumed guilty, and it erased her credibility.

And now she was here with this woman. This thin, mousy, plain Jane that was the last card in the deck for the Georgia state children's services. After everything that Sophia had seen, she couldn't even wait to find out what landed you at the bottom of their totem pole.

Sophia chuckled to herself. She was probably some whacko making sex tapes with dead people in her basement or some shit like that. A real piece of work.

It didn't really matter though. Sophia only had to make nice with Minnie Mouse for a little while and then she was as good as out of here. She was done with the whole thing and she wasn't going back into the system just to find out she'd circulated through every single person who was even willing to do a take an a half at a "troubled youth" like herself. The first chance she got, she was taking it and she was leaving the probably demented pixie to take the heat for it. She'd get off easy, after all, for losing a kid that no one gave a damn about. Sophia was practically invisible as it was, and no one would miss her after she'd disappeared for a bit.

Sophia walked down the hall looking for the bathroom, which she found with ease. She wasn't getting out of there tonight so she might as well make due for the time being and eat whatever the psycho downstairs wanted to feed her. The worst she could do was poison her, after all, and really Sophia wasn't sure she'd mind that all so much.

In the bathroom, Sophia flushed the toilet and washed her hands in the sink, drying them on a somewhat dusty towel hanging on the tiny towel rack next to the sink. She was glad that she didn't really care what the hell she looked like because it seemed that at some point the medicine cabinet, which had very likely had a door on it at some time, had lost both its door and the mirror attached to it. Apparently the woman she'd come to live with didn't care much for home improvement because instead of her reflection, all that stared back at Sophia right now were some mostly empty shelves holding a few forgotten q tips and some band aids.

Sophia shrugged, switched off the light, and started down the stairs to see if the delivery people had arrived yet with the gourmet dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I'm glad that you all seem to be liking this fic. I have plans for it and I'm excited about them. I like it because it's something different for me to work on, and variety is the spice of life, after all.**

**As always, thank you so much for your reviews and thoughts on the story.**

**I hope you enjoy as we continue on a little at a time! **

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Daryl rolled his neck from side to side listening to the crack. It didn't do much for the stiffness that was sinking in and was really more of an act of habit than anything truly beneficial. Without looking at it, Daryl picked the cigarette up that he'd rested on the shop floor to get both of his hands around the bottom of the fender and went to take a drag. He frowned at it, realizing that it had burned itself down to the filter while he'd been absorbed in the work he was doing. He lined the spent filter up next to the others that he had there, almost like military men on the dusty shop floor.

Daryl rubbed at his eyes and heaved himself to his feet, walking across the shop and dramatically stretching his knees, listening to them crack a little as he moved. His life hadn't been kind to his body. The up and down and years spent on his knees on the concrete of shop floors simply made some things wear down quicker than others. The beatings from his old man…those hadn't helped his body feel any better with the passing of the years either.

Daryl lit another cigarette, this time keeping it in his hands and paying attention to the speed with which it burned down. He leaned against the doorframe of the open stall of the shop and rubbed back and forth to scratch a spot between his shoulder blades, like a bear with an itch.

The night outside was almost black, and the only light came from a light pole that sat awkwardly in the middle of nowhere, hovering in the blackness not far from the trailer that Daryl shared with Merle. His brother might be home…it was pretty damn late. If he was he was more than likely passed out drunk somewhere in the tin can they called their house. If he wasn't home…then he was probably working his way toward passing out.

Daryl had raved against his brother a million times about driving drunk, especially on his motorcycle, but his asshole brother was too damn hardheaded to listen to him. He only hoped the fucker's head was hard enough to withstand the asphalt when the night finally came that he crashed the damn bike into a tree somewhere.

Daryl wasn't sure that he could say he loved his brother. He wasn't sure that the concept of love was anything that he could wrap his mind around at all. It sounded, if the words were spoken aloud, like a pretty shitty thing to say about your brother and the only breathing person you even gave a single fuck about, but it was just the truth.

Sometimes Daryl tried to imagine how he'd feel when he found out, and he was sure in the back of his mind that the day would come, that Merle had killed himself some damn stupid way in a drunken stupor. Daryl didn't know, though, if the way that his brain told him he'd feel was only in response to the fact that it was a hypothetical situation, because when he thought about it, he really didn't feel much of anything.

He was almost made sorrier by the fact that he didn't feel a damn thing when he thought about his brother's untimely demise, than he was about the thought that his brother would just be gone.

That's just how the fuck it was, though, right? Life was just fucking like that. One minute you're there and the next damn minute you're not. Daryl had heard assholes talking about leaving legacies and shit, leaving something behind. In the end, though, it didn't really matter. People were only going to remember the shitty things you did. Those were the things that would withstand time. The rest would only be remembered by the few people, if they even existed, that really gave a damn about you, and realistically it wouldn't change anything. They'd get up, just like they always did, and they'd go on with their lives, and they'd realize, before even too much time had passed that it had been weeks since they thought about you, and then years, and before long they just didn't think about you. The whole leaving some mark on someone…some life changing thing…that was just bullshit someone made up somewhere so that people wouldn't feel so damn sorry about dying.

Daryl looked back at the Coupe that he'd been working on since quitting time at the shop. The fenders looked better than he'd even expected they would. It wouldn't be hard at all to make them just as smooth and perfect as he wanted them to be. He knew that a lot of people, when he'd first brought the junker up behind the shop, had looked over it, tossing around their so called expert opinions, and they'd said that he'd never get the dents and bangs out of those fenders. But Daryl knew he could handle that shit, even if they couldn't, and looking at it now with just the one side done, he smiled to himself. That damn Coupe would be just as straight as you pleased down both sides and every surface would be as smooth as glass.

That was, maybe, the only legacy that Daryl would leave behind. Even that he knew wasn't eternal. Eventually some asshole would wreck the cars he fixed and sold, or junk them again once the good was got out of them, or let them sit around and rot simply because they thought they were for looking at and they never realized that a car like that needed love, respect, and attention. Eventually, just like Daryl himself, the cars would simply cease to exist. He'd rot away to nothingness and they'd rust away, most of the old bodies being made primarily of steel instead of the crunchy ass fiberglass they used these days.

It seemed fitting to Daryl, though, that the best thing about him. The only thing good about him really, would simply just rust away, forgotten, someday. It was just as suiting as the end to any other legacy, he supposed.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and decided to call it a night. He didn't know what time it was exactly, but he'd have to be up early enough to pull the Coupe back behind the shop and get the place ready to start working on the cars that paid the bills. He stepped inside the shop and rolled the heavy metal door down, locking it. He walked through, throwing away the spent butts from his night's work, and flipped the lights off, stepping outside and locking the door.

He walked toward the tin can palace that the light reflected off of, shining almost as bright as if it had been a mirror reflecting back the absurdity of the oddly placed electric beacon.

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Carol was up earlier than she normally had to be. Things had to be done now that she was responsible for this teenage kid. She was tired and the coffee pot seemed like it was roaring louder than was hardly necessary for the hour.

Carol had hardly slept. She'd closed herself in her room after they'd eaten the pizza in silence, and she'd had the full intent to lock herself in the fantasy world of at least one of the books she'd brought home from the library a few days ago, being the first to read these new arrivals, but instead she'd made the mistake of deciding to flip through Sophia's files, and deciding to flip through the stack of other papers that had been slipped into her hands regarding her responsibilities as Sophia's guardian.

And today she had to register Sophia at the high school and get her there to start her first day of classes.

Carol had never thought, back in the glory days when she entertained the idea of parenthood, that the day after she got the child she'd be up at the high school trying to get it enrolled in Algebra, Chemistry, and whatever else it was that Sophia needed to be taking to stay on track.

The morning had been awkward already, too, since Carol wasn't sure how to wake a teenager up. She didn't feel like she had the right to go into the girl's bedroom. She didn't even know Sophia, so she didn't want to go barging in and shake her awake. So she had thought about it for a while and finally stood quietly knocking at the door and gradually increasing the volume of her pounding until the girl had yelled something at her which was probably an obscenity.

Carol had informed her that she had school and she had to get registered, so she'd better get dressed and get downstairs.

Carol didn't have anything, really, in the way of nutritious food to offer the girl, but she'd set the pizza box on the table with the leftover pizza in it and she figured that Sophia could graze from that. She'd go to the store when she got off work and she'd get something to start feeding the girl, but until then the leftover pizza was about all she could do.

Carol was so tired that she almost did a dance when the coffee finally finished brewing. She drug her coffee cup across the countertop and filled it, standing there and taking a few sips before she even removed her hand from the handle of the coffee pot.

Sophia's feet pounded down the hall above her and down the stairs. Her sour face was the first human contact of the day. Absolutely delightful. Carol was suddenly craving the library, and she was ready to get to work.

"You want some coffee?" Carol asked when Sophia stood a few feet in front of her, glaring at her with that chipper good morning appearance that she had. Sophia cured her lip and narrowed her eyebrows.

"You're offering me _coffee_?" Sophia asked. "Jesus! I'm fifteen!"

Carol blinked at her. The nastiness of her attitude was rubbing off on her already and it didn't help when compounded with the exhaustion and the night's worth of self-degradation she'd engaged in over the fact that she'd even let herself get trapped in this little endeavor that simply could not end well.

"It's coffee," Carol said, "not cocaine."

Sophia curled her lip again and shook her head, huffing as she did.

"Where's breakfast? I'm sure we're having bran flakes or some shit like that," Sophia said sarcastically.

Carol sipped at her coffee, holding the hot cup between her palms and warming them against the slight chill of the kitchen.

"The pizza's on the table," Carol said. "I don't even have bran flakes."

Sophia glared at her a little, but Carol thought there was some sign of pleasure there as Sophia pulled open the box and stood, leaning against the table, eating the cold pizza.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Sophia asked, her mouth full of pizza.

Carol looked down, taking in her sneakers, the boot cut jeans she'd gotten somewhere that were a little big, but at least they weren't too tight, and the sweatshirt that someone had gotten as a souvenier at Disneyland and passed to her. She shrugged a little. She let her gaze fall on the teenager.

"Is that what you're wearing?" She asked. Sophia was wearing jeans and what appeared to be two tops layered together. Carol didn't really think that she should be criticizing anyone's wardrobe…but she supposed that as a teenager she would have done the same thing.

Sophia made a face, but chose not to respond. She plucked a second piece of pizza from the box, smashing the lid down with the palm of her hand.

"There's no mirror in the bathroom upstairs," Sophia said. "And judging from the looks of you I'm guessing the one down here is missing too."

Carol ran her fingers absentmindedly through her hair. In her opinion that act in itself meant her beauty regimen was complete. It was as good as it was going to get. As Ed would have said, no matter how much you tried to shine shit, you still ended up with a polished turd.

"There's one in my bathroom," Carol responded. "You can use it if you need to and I'll get you one after work."

"Whatever," Sophia said. "It's not like I care what these assholes think. I'm not going to be seeing much of them anyway."

Carol tried to ignore the girl's flippant attitude. She finished her coffee and put the mug in the sink. She reached around, unplugging the coffee pot that until this morning had shared the only conversation she'd tried to make any morning since Ed had gone to prison, and she stood regarding the teenager for a moment. She crossed the kitchen, pulling open the drawer that seemed to collect nearly everything in the house, and came up with a half used yellow legal pad and a pen that she could only imagine worked since it was the only one visible that still had a cap.

"Here," she said, thrusting it toward the girl, "we can go after I get off work and get you some school supplies or whatever you need, but at least you won't walk in looking totally unprepared."

Carol paused a minute and pulled the pad back, scribbling on it.

"This is my name…the house number…the number at the library I work at…" Carol said as she wrote.

"You're a librarian?" Sophia asked. Carol nodded. "Figures," Sophia said. Carol didn't respond.

"And the address. I don't know what bus you take or any of that. We'll have to ask that when you're registering," Carol said.

She handed the pen and pad to Sophia then and the girl took it a little reluctantly. She ripped the top page off, the one that Carol had written on, and balled it up somewhat, shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans.

She looked at Carol with an expression of extreme boredom.

Carol reached in her purse and dug through, pulling her keys out. She twisted one of the keys off attached to a keychain from Key Largo that one of her friends had brought her back when she was in high school. She'd carried it around as her house key when she'd been married to Ed, and now it just hung from her key ring as an extra key to lug around. She held it out to Sophia.

"Don't lose that. That's the key to the house. If you lose it you'll be stuck waiting outside until I get home from work," Carol said.

Sophia snatched the key and shoved it down into her front pocket, sucking her teeth a little and cocking her head to the side.

"Anything else?" Sophia asked.

Carol looked around the kitchen for some kind of sign of anything that she might be forgetting, but she couldn't think of anything. She picked up the pile of papers that the social worker had paperclipped together for her as documents she would need to register Sophia and she slung her purse over her shoulder.

"I think that's it," Carol said. "Are you ready to go?"

Sophia looked for a moment at her half used legal pad and ink pen.

"I think I've got everything," she said.

"Then let's go," Carol said. She walked toward the door and Sophia brushed past her, heading to the car without waiting.

"This is going to be just awesome," Sophia growled as she passed by.

Carol stepped out the door and pulled it shut, locking it behind her.

"Really? 'Cause I think so too," she grumbled under her breath, knowing the teenager who was already closing the passenger side door couldn't hear her high level of enthusiasm about the adventure they were embarking on together.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: So here we go, a little more development to the story. **

**I may try to get a little more out for you tomorrow. Remember, we've got a lot of plot and character development ahead of us, so we've barely met our characters so far. **

**As always, I appreciate any and all reviews.**

**I hope you enjoy! **

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Sophia walked down the road from where the bus dropped her off, the gravel crunching beneath her shoes. She didn't know what time Minnie Mouse got off work at her probably thrilling job at the library, but she hoped it allowed her enough time to get out the house. With any luck she'd thumb a ride or two and be out of town before Minnie even had a clue that she was gone.

She wasn't doing this shit anymore. She hated going to these schools. It seemed like she'd had so many first days at school that she could hardly remember having anything else and the truth of the matter was that it sucked. No matter who her new "family" of the month was, it was the same old story.

The only thing worse than being a kid in the system was being a kid in the system and going to school with kids that didn't know a damn thing about it. You were like an alien life form to them. Their questions were stupid and by now Sophia knew them like they were some kind of ridiculous litany.

_Are you an orphan? Are your parents dead? What happened to them? What's it like to live in an orphanage? Do you like your new parents? Aren't you happy they brought you home? _

And the absurdity continued. Sophia hardly made it through a week at any school without being targeted by some asshole that ended up making her have to roll with them and then, of course, she was the one that was in trouble because she was the "troubled youth" that her precious and wonderful foster parents were "saving". The other kid…well that kid was never just seen as the asshole they were. Their parents ran to their rescue, because their kid wouldn't do anything wrong. It was really just the kids like Sophia, the ones who didn't have a single person giving a damn about them anyway, that caused the problems. She knew what the other parents were thinking…what the principals were thinking…and her foster parents…and the social workers even…she was obviously a fuck up or she wouldn't be chugging through the damn system like she was anyway.

Sophia found the house, remembering it mostly because it looked rundown in comparison to the houses around it. As she started up the walkway she dug the key out of her pocket and went straight to the door, unlocking it. Minnie Mouse's car wasn't there which meant she was probably still at work and that gave Sophia enough time to be out of there.

Sophia tossed the half used legal pad and pen on the kitchen table on top of the pizza box. She thought about it a second and moved the pad, reaching into the box. There was a last piece of pizza there and she ate it as she made her way up the stairs and to the room she'd slept in the night before. Her suitcase was ready for her. It was always ready for her. The only difference was this time she wasn't waiting for some dumb ass social worker to show up at the door downstairs and tell her it was time to move on, and she wasn't waiting for another set of foster parents grinning like idiots because they hoped their brief time trying so damn hard to save her ass would earn them their pink faced prince or princess. This time Sophia was calling the shots and she was getting the hell out of there on her own.

She heaved up the bag. Maybe she'd go to Florida and work at Disneyland or Disneyworld or whatever the hell there was there. She could be some kind of princess or sell ice cream and balloons. She'd make her own money and she'd make her own way. She could do fine on her own, but she wasn't going to just sit around here waiting for Minnie to get tired of her and call the social worker to pick her up and auction her off to the next bidder. Maybe with her gone, Minnie could get another kid once the heat died down from Sophia's disappearance. Maybe she could get something a little more her speed…something she actually wanted.

Sophia stepped out of the house and locked the door back, shoving the key under the mat where eventually it would get found. She heaved up her suitcase and headed back to the road, walking as quickly as she could. She needed to put as much ground between her and this town as possible before anyone started looking.

She knew they'd start looking, of course. It was standard and she'd known a few kids that tried to make a break for it and got caught, but Sophia wasn't getting caught. She could never understand why they bothered to look for them any damn way. It wasn't like anyone cared where they were. It was better for everyone if they let them just go ahead and fade on out. It saved everyone from even having to pretend for a moment that they gave a shit. Just let the ones who wanted to run, run, and everyone would be a lot happier.

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Daryl finished washing the red Dodge that they'd fixed up because someone backed into a pole. He had been admiring his handiwork while he'd washed. The thing looked better now than it probably did coming off the lot.

When it was clean, he considered his options. He could either towel dry it off, which he didn't feel much like doing and there weren't any shop hands around that weren't busy to do it for him, or he could just drive it down the road a piece and dry it off. He opted for the second and quickly stepped into the shop, picking the key up off the board by the door where he'd hung it after moving the car outside. All the keys went back there immediately after they were used. It was the only way they'd figured out to keep the damn things from getting lost in someone's pockets and to make sure that someone didn't go off to get parts for one car leaving the other stranded in a stall that needed to be used.

"Goin' ta blow that car off," Daryl called to whoever was listening. He stepped out the stall door and got in the car, careful to beat his shoes off so he wouldn't track so much dust and dirt inside. He wasn't vacuuming the shit, though. He'd make sure it was waxed and ready to go, shining so damn bright you could see yourself in it, but he wasn't vacuuming it. It was the exterior of the vehicles that really interested him, and he was good enough to be bitchy about what he did around the shop without catching shit from Mac.

Daryl cranked the car and pulled it down the drive to the shop. The road that ran right by the shop was a small road and Daryl had to drive easy around it because of the curves, but it led him out to one of the highways and there he could dare to open any of the cars up for a moment, blowing off the water and getting a feel for them.

Of course this car wasn't a beast, and it wasn't impressive in the slightest. It wasn't the same feeling as some of the steel horses he'd had galloping beneath him before. Still, gunning a car was a good feeling, whether it was really a remarkable piece of machinery or not.

When Daryl did hit the highway he gunned the car as he'd intended. He frowned a little at the lack of enthusiasm the machine showed at its chance to run free and took his foot off the accelerator, letting it drop down to a reasonable speed. He would do the same round he did with most cars, driving just a piece up the highway and hanging a right on the road that would circle back and take him back around the shop's location.

As Daryl drove along the road at a speed that made the law enforcement of the area comfortable, he noticed ahead of him a girl standing on the side of the road, her skinny arm stuck out and her thumb out like she was some kind of old style hitchhiker.

The side of the highway weren't no place for a skinny ass kid with a suitcase, and hitchhiking these days weren't what it was when even Daryl had been younger. He wanted to leave the kid there simply for being an idiot, but Daryl was more than aware of the kind of douchebags that inhabited the world and he knew that leaving the kid on the side of the road to take her chances would be a pretty shitty thing to do. The least he could do was take her ass back to wherever the hell she'd come from.

Daryl checked behind him, threw on the blinker, and coasted the car to a stop near the girl. She stood, hesitating a moment, and then grabbed her suitcase, dragging it toward the passenger side of the Dodge. She opened the door.

"Gimme a ride?" She asked.

"Where tha hell ya think ya goin'?" Daryl asked.

"I'm headed to Florida," the girl said, "but I'll go just as far as you're going."

"Fine," Daryl said. "Toss ya shit in the backseat an' let's get tha fuck outta here. Ain't safe ta be pulled over here an' I ain't gettin' rear ended here."

The girl nodded slightly and slung her bag into the backseat of the car. She crawled in, pulling the door shut and buckling her seatbelt. Daryl didn't say anything else to her for the moment, but he glanced over, taking in the figure that occupied the passenger seat of the car.

She was just a kid. All knobby kneed and her elbows looked like they were put on backwards. She sat in the seat staring straight ahead, her arms folded tightly over her chest and her lips pressed together so hard that they'd almost disappeared. He didn't know how the kid ended up on the side of the highway supposedly headed to Florida, but he could smell bad news all over the situation.

Daryl pulled the car back onto the highway and slowly made his way back to the shop. The girl kept glancing out the window, but it wasn't until he pulled into the driveway of the shop that she started to protest.

"Where the hell is this?" She asked.

"It's where tha hell I'm goin'," Daryl said. He pulled the car up and parked it, noticing that one of the shop hands that hung around there picking up a few bucks after school was already waiting for him so he could finish cleaning the thing up. Daryl decided he'd let the hand worry about waxing the car while he figured out what the hell to do with this damn skinny ass girl he'd plucked off the side of the road. He hoped to hell there was no way he could go to jail just for having the little bitch with him. "Get outta tha car," Daryl said, opening the passenger side door. The girl reluctantly got out, dragging her suitcase after her.

"This wasn't the deal," the girl said.

Daryl rolled his eyes. He didn't like women. They were too damn much to deal with. He didn't like kids either because they were noisy and bratty and bitchy all the damn time. He certainly didn't think he was going to like the creature in front of him which was essentially what happened when women and children morphed together. He just needed to get rid of her.

"S'all tha fuckin' deal I gave," Daryl said. "Ya said ya was goin' as far as I was goin', an' we here. Now where tha hell ya live?"

"I'm not saying," the girl said, crossing her arms. "You should have just left me where I was if you were going to drag me here. Now you've gone and backtracked me and that's going to cost me time."

She picked up the suitcase and started down the driveway from the shop. Daryl growled a little under his breath and half jogged after her, catching the suitcase and ripping it from her grip. She spun around.

"That's mine!" She yelled at him. She looked like she was damn near boiling in that instant and Daryl almost laughed. He believe the girl might very well have thrown a punch at him for a second there.

"Tha fuck is ya name?" Daryl asked.

"That's none of your business," the girl said. "Give me back my shit!"

Daryl turned, walking away with the suitcase still in his hand. He heard the footsteps of the girl and knew that she was following him. He didn't know what was in the bag, but it was a good bet that if she was a runaway every single thing she really gave a shit about was in the bag, and she wasn't likely to leave it. Daryl knew all about that…he'd done his share of running before. What he didn't know was why the hell the girl was running away or what she was running from.

"Hey!" The girl called, her pace picking up by the sound of her shoes. Daryl tightened his grip on the handle of the bag in case she tried to use his own trick and snatch it from him. "Hey! Asshole! Give me that back!"

When Daryl reached the shop again, he realized they'd drawn the attention of Mac who was leaning against one of the doorframes to a stall.

"Problem, Daryl?" Mac asked, shifting the toothpick in his mouth a little.

"Nope," Daryl said. He turned back to face the girl.

"What's ya name?" He asked.

The girl stopped, squaring off with him. She wore a sulky look and crossed her arms across her chest. He wondered if she might cry, but she looked like the kind that would rather be struck by lightning than give into her desire to cry.

"Sophia," she snarled. "Now give me back my bag."

Daryl shook his head.

"Daryl," he said. "An' I ain't givin' ya back tha bag 'til ya tell me where tha hell ya live an' who ya parents are."

"Joke's on you, asshole," Sophia said. "I don't got any parents."

Daryl frowned. Sophia, as the girl was called, didn't have parents but she had to have somebody. Daryl knew well enough that they wouldn't just let kids her age go about trumping up and down highways. Authorities were fucked up most of the time, but they were serious about that kid shit.

"Where tha fuck ya live?" He asked. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with all this and he was beginning to really regret that he'd stopped at all for the kid. Time was wasting away and he had work to do. Whatever he didn't get done before everyone clocked out was shit that he'd have to do when the shop closed and that would eat into his planned quality time with the Coupe sitting out back.

Sophia shrugged.

"Don't live nowhere. Going to Florida. My bag?" She reached her hand toward him.

"I ain't fuckin' 'round with ya no more. Tell me where tha fuck ya live or I'm callin' tha cops. Have it ya own damn way," Daryl said.

Sophia kicked at the ground in frustration. Again the look crossed her face like she was considering scratching Daryl's eyeballs out. He had the bag, though, and whatever was in it was something she wanted. Now he was beginning to wonder if it was every damn thing the kid owned.

Sophia didn't say anything. She walked slowly past Daryl and started walking around the outside of the shop a little, craning her head and looking in the stalls. Daryl turned around, the bag still in his hand, growing even more frustrated. For as bad as she might want to scratch his eyes out at the moment, he had half a mind to wring her scrawny neck and be done with this.

Sophia stopped, looking in the final stall. She turned on her heels.

"It doesn't matter if you take me back," she said. "I'm just leaving again as soon as you get out of sight."

"Figured ya might say that," Daryl said. "Cops it is, I reckon."

Daryl turned and started through the first stall of the shop where there was a yellow wall phone hanging that he figured the shop had been using since Mac first opened it. He reached toward the receiver and Sophia yelped at him. He knew she didn't want him calling the cops. Whatever her situation was, the cops weren't going to make it better. Any idiot who'd ever dealt with the cops knew that very seldom did they make anything any better than it was. Still, he was losing his patience and he wanted some answers soon. He glanced toward the clock, making note of how much time was ticking away while he was playing games with this stupid little girl.

"Don't!" Sophia called. Daryl didn't touch the receiver. He looked at Sophia. She was very obviously sulking, the fire still burning right behind her eyes. "Fine, I'll give you the address, just don't call the cops."

Daryl glanced back at the clock again. Either the people that she lived with were passed out drunk or on some shit and didn't notice her slip out, or they were at work and she took advantage of that. One meant that he was possibly delivering her back into some kind of personal hell, the other could mean the same thing or could just mean that she was trying to outrun some other shit on the side of the highway. Daryl didn't have time to figure out which was which. She'd sure as shit run away again, but at least if he took her back his conscience was clean and good fucking luck to her the next time she struck out for Florida.

"Gimme the damn address," Daryl said.

Sophia reached in her pocket and pulled out a wadded up piece of paper. She held it out to Daryl, making a quick swipe for the bag when she did. He simultaneously snatched the paper and pulled the bag farther out of her reach, chuckling a little. He didn't give a shit that Mac was watching the whole damn thing with great interest.

"Gotta be faster than that, sweetheart," Daryl said. He frowned at the fact that the paper was damp, probably from ass sweat, and smoothed it out as best he could against his chest without having to use the hand clutching her prized possessions. He knew the address. He'd never personally been there, but he knew the area. He glanced at the clock again. "Make yaself fuckin' comfortable, princess," Daryl said. "We'll be rollin' out in 'bout an hour."

Sophia looked confused and looked at the clock.

"Why are we leaving in an hour?" She asked.

Daryl chewed his lip and shook his head. He didn't intend to tell her that he was keeping her there until closing time for the shop, which meant it was about an hour after most normal people got off of work. He figured that would give whoever she was staying with time to get home, and it would be a bit more of a guarantee that she wasn't going to fly the coop as soon as he let her out of his truck.

"Just get comfortable," he said. "I got me some work ta do, but I'll see ya in about an hour."

Daryl started to walk toward one of the back stalls where a car was taped up and waiting for him to prime it. He held the bag up and shoved the address into his pants pocket.

"I got this for safe keepin'," he said. "Get'cha self a Coke out tha machine if ya thirsty."

He left the girl standing there, her arms across her chest, and took the bag inside the booth with him to sit in the corner while he sprayed the car. Mac was out in the shop and he wouldn't let the girl leave without alerting Daryl.

In an hour, Daryl could take the little bitch back to wherever she came from and wish her and her bag of shit all the luck in the world. She'd be out of his hair and be right back to being the problem of whoever it was that owned her. Whatever happened from there was her own damn business, but he could know he hadn't left her to get raped or killed on the side of some Georgia road.

He sighed and put his mask on, testing the spray on the can of primer that Mac had brought back there for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Once again, you all amaze me. I thank you for your reviews and comments. I'm glad to know that people are reading and enjoying the story. I hope I do it justice as we continue because I'm really interested in this story and enjoy the plans that I have for it.**

**I hope you like this chapter! **

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Carol had decided that going to the store without the company of her new little bundle of sour sarcasm would probably be a good idea and cause her less of a headache. She left work a few minutes early since no one was in there at the time. She closed up and drove to the store quickly filling her cart with anything she thought a teenager might eat. The more high fructose corn syrup it had in it, the more likely Sophia was bound to enjoy it.

She also chose the makings of a few well measured dinners. She'd loved to cook, once up on a time. She'd begun to hate it, though, when she was married to Ed. He could find a number of reasons to lose his temper over meals. If he didn't like what was served, what time it got served, the temperature of the food…they were all reasons for him to lash out. Sometimes she would even try to win by cooking his favorite food and calculating everything else carefully, but he'd still find something to complain about. Emotionally she'd begun to associate cooking with the anticipation of a possible fight.

Since Ed was gone she did very little cooking. She'd stuck to most anything that she could microwave. Outwardly she'd excused he activity by saying that cooking for one was difficult. It was too much of a hassle. After all, she had tons of other things to do with her time besides slave over the stove making a meal that only she would enjoy, and then she'd be stuck with leftovers that she could either eat on repeat for days or end up throwing out…which triggered its own set of memories. Cooking for one was just more trouble than it was worth.

Inwardly, though, she knew the truth. Cooking was only one of the many things that kept Ed there, just in front of her mind's eyes. Still, she was hoping that with Sophia there, and another person to feed, she might be able to retrain herself to think about it differently…and the girl deserved to eat something besides frozen dinner from time to time.

Carol also passed down one of the aisles of the so called superstore in town and picked up a few notebooks and some pens and pencils for the girl. She didn't know what they needed in high school and she couldn't remember clearly what her classes were really like. She remembered other things about high school, but the actual academic details seemed to be the least important in her memory's opinion. She picked her up a plain backpack, though, assuming it would be good enough for the back and forth to the bus.

When she got home with her purchases, she unloaded most of what she could. She'd always hated to make more than one trip, so she could get almost everything in one load by now. There'd never been anyone that would volunteer to help her with things like that, and she didn't assume Sophia would be the first.

Carol unlocked the door, her arms straining against the weight of the bags, and shoved it open. She stumbled inside and deposited the bags on the floor so she could unpack them at her leisure. She glanced at the clock on the oven. Sophia should be back by now, unless the bus was running late.

"Sophia?" Carol called. There was no response. Carol glanced around the kitchen and saw the legal pad on the table that Sophia had taken to school with her.

Carol scratched her head and left everything where it was to go and check on the girl a moment. She started up the stairs. The door to the bedroom was closed and she knocked at it, timidly.

"Sophia?" Carol called. There was still no response. Carol knocked again, louder, and finally turned the knob, pushing the door open. The room was empty. She walked around it, panic beginning to rise a little in her when she realized that the suitcase was missing out the floor. She yanked the dresser drawers open and flung open the closet door, hoping that she'd find the suitcase tucked somewhere. It wasn't in there though. She checked under the bed in a final effort before coming.

In less than one day she'd failed entirely at this parenting gig. She'd lost Sophia. No wonder the foster homes hadn't called her. They'd been right if they'd predicted that she wasn't made to do this. Ed had been right that night. She wasn't fit to be a mother. She wasn't good for anything. He'd said that night that if she had she would probably leave the damn kid somewhere or it would drown in the bathtub. He'd been right.

Now what was she supposed to do? Did she call the police and tell them Sophia was missing? Where would she even begin to look for a fifteen year old girl? Did she call the social services people and tell them that she'd had the child at her house for less than twenty four hours and already she was a missing person?

Carol realized that her breathing was picking up out of her control and she took a moment, leaning against the wall, to try to get it back to normal.

In an almost surreal fog she eased down the hall and down the stairs. Sophia had run away. Ed had been right about other things too. He'd told her that no one would ever want her…that he only tolerated her because she was useless and worthless…and he'd been right. The teenager had seen that from the beginning. Even to a teenager with no one and nothing…she was better off without Carol.

Carol made it down the stairs and tried to figure out what to do. She could try to look for Sophia herself, but really what was the point? The girl had run away. She'd left because she didn't want to be stuck with Carol. She didn't want to stay there. What good would it be to drag her back there and make her try to stick it out? Sophia was better off without Carol.

The best thing for her to do would be to call the child services, she decided. She could go ahead and tell them that she'd lost the child she'd been entrusted with. At least then they'd know what to do to find the girl and make sure she was safe somewhere with someone who was actually suitable to have her in their home. They could go ahead and throw Carol's information away too, while they were at it. She didn't think they'd ever ask her for anything again, but even if they did she was pretty sure she didn't want to try this ever again.

Carol fumbled around, looking for the number in the folder of things, cursing at herself for not having taken the afternoon off work to pick the girl up or for not having come straight home to take her shopping with her. Mostly, though, she cursed herself for being a big enough waste that not even this kid, who had been through countless foster homes according to her records, could bear to be in her presence for more than a day.

Carol turned, caught off guard by the noise of the door, and ceased her searching through the folder for the proper number to dial.

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Daryl stepped over to the table where all the sprayers were lined up. He dumped paint thinner into the empty can that he'd just used and swished it around. He washed his hands quickly with a splash of the thinner and dried them with a paper towel. It was more to get off whatever wasn't dried on than it was for any real deep cleanse anyway. Daryl wore, most of the time, a variety of colors of paint and a good deal of primer. He was used to it and he didn't much give a damn anyway. It wasn't like anyone in the shop was going around and admiring each other's hands.

Daryl glanced around the shop, trying to find the girl. She'd disappeared and for a moment he worried that she'd decided to strike out without her prized bag of shit that he'd left in the paint booth. He passed back in there and took up the bag in his hands. Coming back into the shop he crossed over to one of the corners where Mac and Merle were sitting, shooting the shit and smoking cigarettes.

"Where the hell's the girl?" Daryl asked.

"Ya mean ya girlfriend?" Merle asked. "Ya pickin' 'em kinda young these days, ain't'cha Derlina?" Merle drawled.

Daryl shook his head. He hated when his brother was at work. It was fine so long as he kept his ass under a car or with his head shoved under a hood doing the mechanical bullshit that he could at least do half assed when his hangovers weren't ridiculous, but any damn time he crawled out from under one of those fucking hoods he was just flapping his jaws like anyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

Mac took a drag off his cigarette, one arm crossed across his chest and put his foot up on the lower level of the step stool that he was sitting on.

"Went out back," Mac said.

"Thought ya was gonna keep an eye on her," Daryl said.

Mac snickered and shook his head.

"Ain't told me to keep no damn eye on her and last I checked this was a shop, not a daycare," Mac said.

Daryl turned around, rolling his eyes to himself about the assholes he left behind. He walked forward, coming out the open door to the back stall. He crossed around the building, heading toward the back, and hoping the damn kid was back there.

He supposed, though, that if the little bitch had decided to run off when he'd told her to wait that it really wasn't his problem. He'd done what the hell he could do and he wasn't no nanny. It wasn't his job to keep people's wayward damn kids from running away. And if she was running away from a worthy damn cause, then part of his gut wished her the best of luck out there on the road. It wasn't going to be an easy life, but sometimes the shit life you don't have looks a hell of a lot better than the shit life you do have.

As Daryl circled around, though, he saw the girl almost instantly. She had the door open to the Coupe he had parked out there and she was standing just inside it, leaning over so that just her ass poked out the open door.

"Get the fuck outta there," Daryl snapped.

Sophia jumped, obviously scared to death and not expecting Daryl to approach her. She calmed a second later though and poked her whole body out of the car. Her hands grasping the frame in various places so that she could lean back from the body of the car, her feet still inside.

"Whose car is this?" She asked.

"It's mine," Daryl said. "Get'cha ass down."

Sophia hopped backwards landing on her feet. She slammed the door shut and stood staring at Daryl.

"You gonna give me my shit back?" She asked, eying the suitcase in Daryl's hand.

"Hell yeah I am," Daryl said. "Don't wanta be holdin' on ta ya fuckin' dolls no longer than I gotta. Soon as ya get out the damn truck at'cha house and I see ya shimmy ya skinny ass right on through the door, I'm gonna pull off and it's the last time time ya gotta see my pretty ass face."

Sophia narrowed her eyes at him.

"You said you were taking me back," she said. "Going inside weren't part of the deal."

"Rules change, princess, and I've had a little time ta think on it," Daryl said. "Now I don't know why the hell ya runnin' away, but the offer still stands. If'n it's so damn bad ya don't want me ta haul ya ass back there then we'll go in an' ya can call the cops. If that ain't what'cha want then ya goin' home an' ya goin' inside."

Sophia crossed her arms across her chest.

"I told you that I don't got a home. That house ain't my home. Don't you think if it was I wouldn't have the address written down in my pocket? If it was my home, I'd know where the hell it was," Sophia said.

Daryl thought about it. It seemed reasonable for her to say that, but regardless he just wanted to be done with this little princess. It was almost closing time and that Coupe was waiting on him. If he had any hope of getting half of what he wanted to get done on it finished for the night, he had to get the skinny little young'un somewhere where she wasn't up under his ass.

"Come on," Daryl said. "I ain't got time for ya horse shit."

He turned, still clutching the bag and walked toward the tin can palace to get his truck. As he crossed the expanse of orange sand and bits of gravel that stretched between the shop and the dumpsters, his little piece of paradise lying just beyond, he heard Sophia behind him. He glanced over his shoulder once to make sure she was coming, and satisfied that she was, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, not bothering to look behind him again.

"Hey!" Sophia called. "Can I have one of those?"

Daryl stopped and scoffed at her, lighting the cigarette.

"No yah can't have a damn cigarette," he growled. She caught up with him. She rolled her eyes.

"Figures you would say that," she said. "You took my bag, though, and my pack's in there."

"Looks like today's a tough ass day for ya then," Daryl said. He wasn't going to pretend that he didn't smoke when he was probably her age, but he wasn't giving her a cigarette. It was a habit he wished, sometimes, that he'd never picked up so he wasn't contributing to someone else doing it.

He turned then and finished his trek toward the truck. It was a nice truck, at least in Daryl's opinion. He'd done the body work on it himself, and Merle had done the mechanical work necessary to get the thing running.

It was a red 1955 Ford truck, and Daryl kept her shined up. So far she was the only one of the beauties he'd finished that he'd kept for more than a month or two. She was his pride and joy, though, even though she looked almost out of place parked in the driveway of the trashy old aluminum trailer.

"This your truck?" Sophia asked, pulling open the passenger's side door as Daryl slid under the driver's seat having fished the keys out his pocket.

"Sure is," he said.

"Why do you have that rusty old car then when you've got a truck like this?" Sophia asked, crinkling her nose at him and sitting back against the back of her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. She turned around and glanced for a second in the back of the truck where Daryl had tossed her suitcase.

"It's back there, quit your worryin'," Daryl said. He pulled the paper out his pocket, looked at the address once more, and handed her the paper, cranking the truck and bringing it to life. "This here truck used ta look like that old car," Daryl said. "An' ya can bet'cha teeth that when I'm done ya ain't gon' mash ya face up at that car neither."

Sophia raised an eyebrow at him and huffed as he pulled onto the road.

"So you're a grease monkey?" She asked.

Daryl chewed at his cuticle and spit the piece of skin out that he nibbled off.

"Ain't no damn grease monkey," he said. "Merle's a fuckin' grease monkey but I don't fuck with the mechanical bullshit too much. I'm a body man."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sophia asked.

"Means what I do is damn near art," Daryl said.

Sophia scoffed at him, but didn't really say anything else. Daryl steered the truck toward the address she'd indicated and slowed it once they were rolling on the right road so that he could read the mailboxes. The girl hadn't gotten too far. They weren't quite a half a mile from the shop when he pulled to stop at the right mailbox and where he'd found her on the highway would have put her about a mile from there before he'd caught up to her. She wasn't much of a run away if she was less than a mile from where the hell she left and she was already visible on the side of the highway with her thumb stuck out. If she'd had any damn practice at this at all, then she'd know you stayed hid as long as you could and you sure as shit didn't start sticking your thumb out any damn where you might get recognized or picked up by somebody who knew you.

Daryl got out the truck and snatched her old suitcase out the back. He heard the passenger door slam and Sophia stood beside it, looking at the house like she wished it had burned in her brief absence. Daryl shook his head a little at the facial expression and offered her the bag.

"Go on now," he commanded. "Get'cha ass in that house."

Sophia curled her lip. She snatched the bag out of his hand, nearly taking his hand with it. Daryl crossed around the truck and got back in, cranking it up. He sat there and waited until she'd disappeared inside the door and then he drove on back to the shop to finish up everything that needed to get done before they could close up, especially since he was sure no one had done a damn bit of work in his short absence.

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Carol's search for the phone number ended with the sight of Sophia standing inside the door, her suitcase in her hand. There was some kind of gray dirt smudged on her face and on her arm, but other than that she looked unharmed.

"Where have you been?" Carol asked, confused. She thought the girl had run away, but she didn't think it was very likely that someone who had chosen to run away would appear again with their suitcase in their hand.

"Went for a walk," Sophia said, shrugging.

Carol raised her eyebrows at the girl and chuckled a little.

"You went for a walk? With your suitcase?" She asked.

Sophia shrugged again.

"You walk how you want, I do it how I want," Sophia said. She started through the house toward the staircase and Carol caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Don't give me some line of bullshit!" Carol snapped. "Where did you go?"

Sophia turned around quickly, each foot on a different step and her hand on the banister.

"I went for a walk. Now I'm back. Don't worry about it," she said.

Carol wasn't stupid and she didn't particularly like being treated like she was by the fifteen year old in front of her. She felt like the girl had run away, but she didn't exactly have proof of it. She knew that no normal person would simply take a whole suitcase with them everywhere they went. Still, no matter what had happened, the girl had chosen to come back.

"Why did you come back?" Carol asked.

Sophia huffed and stomped up the stairs as though she wasn't going to answer Carol. Carol huffed as well and started up behind her.

"I'm talking to you!" Carol called.

Carol reached the top of the stairs as Sophia marched down the hall, stomping toward the room. Carol reached out and caught her by the top of the arm. Sophia spun around quickly, raring back a little as though she might take a swing at Carol.

"Get your damn hands off me!" Sophia snapped at her. "I came back, what else do you want?"

Carol was struck for a second by the anger radiating out of the girl. She regained herself fairly quickly, but it had given Sophia enough time to dart forward into the room and slam the door.

Carol stood in the hallway a moment trying to think about the situation. She wasn't sure if she should go ahead and call child services, assuming that the girl would run away again and next time she wouldn't come back, or if she should try to find out what had really happened in her absence. She decided that she would give the girl time to cool off while she finished unpacking the car and got dinner started. That might give her some time to sort through what a responsible parent might do in such a situation…if she could consider herself a parent at all.

What she did know, though, was that if Sophia was going to stay, there were going to have to be some kind of rules in place, and they were going to be in place before the night was over or Carol wasn't going to go any further with this whole endeavor that she'd begun.

Sophia might not want her, and if that was the case, Carol would survive it. She'd learned how to be on her own. She wasn't going to spend her time worrying, though, about whether or not the girl was going to be there or she was going to decide to just take off. Carol had heard someone say at some point in one of her meetings after Ed left, and she'd learned to agree with it, that it was better to be alone than poorly accompanied. She'd gotten free from Ed, and she wasn't about to let this fifteen year old girl be another round of torture.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Again, I'm really glad to see that you're enjoying this. That means a lot to me. I really appreciate all of your words.**

**For those of you concerned about Carol and Daryl meeting, have no fear. I promise it's coming. We don't want to rush the ground work of the story, though. If you've read my other fics you know I love me some Caryl and it is on its way, but we have to get there first. Hang tight! **

**Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

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Sophia sat on the edge of the bed. Now she was stuck back in the stupid house and trapped until she could make another run for it. She'd known several people who had decided to run away and got caught, but they'd all been caught by the cops and went pretty much directly back into the system. She didn't know anyone who had been stupid enough to get hauled back to the people they were running from. She had no idea how the hell this would play out, but it probably wasn't going to be good and if she was going to have a hope of getting out of here she was going to have to do it before Carol decided to call them to come and get her. She didn't want to find out what came next if the social worker was right and she was out of families to shuffle through.

Sophia stood up and pace a little in the room. She was angry at herself and angry at the situation she'd found herself in. She'd never understood why it was that some kids ended up with the shit life while other kids lived some kind of fairy tale.

Sophia crawled across the bed and pulled the window open, satisfied when it slid up. She opened up her suitcase on the floor then and dug out one of the packs of cigarettes that she had in there. She collected them from houses she'd been in where the parents had smoked. Most of the time they hadn't missed a few here or there, and once she'd lived for about three weeks with a woman who was such a severe chain smoker that she kept half the pantry stocked with cartons. She also had a drinking problem so she hardly ever noticed when Sophia would jack a couple of packs out of the cartons. She kept them tucked around her clothes and the few other items she kept packed up and ready to go for each and every time she moved on.

Sophia lit the cigarette and leaned out the window a little. It was helping to calm her nerves some, at least.

Yep…somewhere someone would one day have an explanation for her of how it all happened. How the hell were the lots chosen in life? Sophia had given up, a long time ago, on having any hope for her life. She'd been through family after family that crammed every kind of possible religion that she could think of down her throat in the time they'd shared together. From Christianity to Judaism to Buddhism and even a few religions that she was pretty sure they'd just made up. But no matter what they explained to her when they giving her the ten cent tour of their religion, she never found an answer there that told her why the fuck she'd landed just like she had with her shitty situation.

Sophia hadn't thought she was a bad kid…at least she'd never realized it. She figured it out, though. It didn't take her long to learn. She knew all the catchphrases for it now too. All the pretty language the system counselors painted onto it. They didn't want to call it what it was, after all they still seemed to believe that somewhere deep down the kids they dealt with had some kind of feelings left, but no matter what they called it, it still meant the same damn thing.

Returnable. Refundable. Exchangeable. Sorry-you-got-the-busted-kid. None of their religions spoke against that. Every single thing that had been shoved down her throat until she thought she'd vomit…every little detail of all of them that told her how precious and wonderful she was supposed to believe she was because she was a child of who knows what entity on some shelf they prayed to…every single bit of it didn't matter when it came down to it. It didn't apply to kids like her. In the end, she was defective. They could always ship her back.

And now she was realizing that she was so defective…she messed things up so thoroughly, that she couldn't even disappear the way she wanted to. She'd been damn near invisible for as long as she could remember…nothing but some kind of canvas for a family to try to paint their perfect little picture on for a while and then wash clean when it didn't turn out right and roll up to pass to another painter…and still she couldn't vanish when that's what she wanted to happen.

Sophia finished her cigarette and hung out the window a little, scrubbing it out on the side of the house. She dropped it down into the somewhat overgrown grass below. It wasn't her yard, and it wasn't her problem. Minnie Mouse could worry about it when she was out of here. A little something to remember her by when she finally did manage to disappear.

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"Sophia?" Carol called. She had made a more complicated dinner than she'd originally intended to make, but she needed the time that it took to prepare it so that she could think over in her mind how she wanted to handle this. She didn't know what the right answer to this problem was. She wasn't a mother. She had never been a mother. And now she was realizing she wasn't fit for the job at all. She supposed it was better that she learned that on a troubled teenager than on a new baby like she'd originally planned. She might not be able to spare Sophia all the suffering that having her as a parental figure would heap on her, but at least Sophia wouldn't drown in the bathtub like Ed said that her baby would have.

Carol crossed the house to stand at the staircase when she didn't hear any stirring from upstairs.

"Sophia?" She called again. "Sophia, get down here. Dinner's ready."

She waited and finally she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She walked back to the kitchen, almost a little proud of herself. At least she'd managed to call the teenager down to dinner. It wasn't much, but she had a feeling that she was going to have to relish the small things if this was going to be something that continued on for a while.

Sophia came into the kitchen, standing with her arms crossed. Her signature snarl pasted across her face.

"Wash your hands and sit down," Carol said. "I'll bring your dinner to you."

Sophia didn't object. She crossed to the sink and washed her hands, drying them on the dish towel that was by the sink. She made her way then to the table and sat down. Carol loaded up a plate. She figured that whatever Sophia didn't eat she could throw out, she wasn't in the mood to play a game of trying to suit her when the scowl she was wearing indicated the girl would probably refuse to be pacified if she offered her the best meal known to man.

Carol put the plate in front of Sophia and went back to fix her own. She put hers on the table and stood for a second.

"What do you want to drink?" Carol asked. Sophia looked at her like she'd just asked her what her preferred style of execution was.

"What can I have?" Sophia asked. Carol shrugged.

"Try me," she said, a little exasperated. "I bought just about everything, so take a shot."

Sophia stared at her.

"Rum and Coke," Sophia responded, raising an eyebrow at Carol. Carol smiled a little.

"Coke it is," she said. She went into the kitchen and fixed two glasses of Coke, bringing the beverages back to the table. She sat down and started eating before she noticed Sophia begin to eat. The girl had an appetite, which much was obvious.

Carol waited a moment before bringing up what was on her mind.

"No bullshit," Carol said. "Where did you go today?"

Sophia stopped eating for a moment and stared at her, her fork partway to her mouth.

"I'm not going to be mad," Carol said. "Where did you go?"

Sophia finished the bite of food she'd been about to take, chewing it with a little more thought than she had any of the others that she'd devoured so far.

"It doesn't matter," Sophia said, finally.

Carol sighed.

"It does matter. You take off with your suitcase? You were running away?" Carol said.

Sophia just looked at her.

Carol rested her forehead on her hand. This wasn't going to go like she wanted it to, she could already tell that. They were supposed to have an open, honest, meaningful conversation…just like they showed on the Brady Bunch or something like that. Except Carol didn't know how to have that kind of conversation and Sophia wasn't exactly functioning like one of the wind up pod children that appeared on the show. She was pretty sure they weren't going to sing songs while they washed dishes and hug after dinner either.

"What did I do?" Carol asked. "What made you decide to run away after the first night?"

Of course there was no response from Sophia. Carol might as well have been talking to the cow shaped cookie jar on the counter.

"It's fine, really," Carol said. "I can call them in the morning. You don't have to explain."

"Don't act like you weren't going to call them anyway," Sophia said. Carol looked up from her plate.

"What?" She asked.

"Don't act like you weren't going to call them in the morning anyway," Sophia repeated. "I'm not stupid. Don't try to play some psychology shit on me and act like you weren't going to call them. You want to be rid of me just as much as I wanted to get out of here."

"So you did run away?" Carol asked.

"Of course I ran away," Sophia said with a sigh. "Jesus, do you really think I'm going to go for a walk after school and drag my suitcase around? You're not really that stupid, are you?"

Carol frowned.

"For your information," Carol said, "I wasn't going to call them. Not unless you wanted to leave. If you don't want to be here, I'm not going to keep you here against your will, but you don't need to be running away. You don't know what you could run into out there. A girl your age shouldn't be wandering around alone."

Sophia chuckled.

"Like you give a damn," she said.

"You know what?" Carol said. "I do give a damn. You're a little shit, and I'm not going to lie about that, but I still wouldn't want to think of what could happen to you out there on your own. You don't want to stay here, that's fine. I'll call them tomorrow. They can find you something better. They probably should have in the first place."

Carol went back to eating. She assumed the conversation was over. She had thought that they could talk about things…maybe they could work them out, but if Sophia wasn't going to be happy there she really didn't think there was any reason to keep the girl with her. She couldn't blame her. Carol knew she wasn't a prize, so why would Sophia be particularly thrilled about her placement. Tomorrow Sophia could go and find a better family, and Carol could get on with her life. No harm, no foul.

Carol could feel Sophia looking at her, probably brewing some smart ass comment. She glanced up, making eye contact with the girl again.

"You really weren't going to call them?" Sophia asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Believe me," she said, "if I were planning on calling them I wouldn't have bought all this junk food, and I wouldn't have opened any of it." Carol gestured over toward the living room. "Your backpack is on the couch, by the way. There are some notebooks and stuff. You can take it with you when you go. I don't need it but you'll be going to school somewhere."

"What if you didn't call them?" Sophia asked.

Carol raised her eyebrow at the girl. Sophia had drawn one of her feet up into her chair while she ate and Carol considered telling her to put it down, but she decided that the girl was talking to her, and that was a step above what dinner conversation could be. She might as well sit in the chair however she pleased.

"And why wouldn't I call them?" Carol asked. "So you can run away again and end up some statistic on a rape poster? No thanks…I could do without that on my conscience."

Sophia tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes a little at Carol.

"What if I said I wouldn't run away again?" Sophia asked. "What if I said I'd try to stay here?"

Carol had thought about the possibility during dinner. She was fine with the girl staying here, provided that they established some kind of rules. If she was supposed to be a foster parent, for whatever length of time they saw fit to leave the girl with her, then there were going to be rules.

"You want to stay?" Carol asked.

Sophia shrugged a little, but Carol thought she saw something in the girl's expression change. Carol decided to take her chance. The worse that could happen was that the girl's snarly attitude took over again and they were right back at square one. Regardless she could still call the place tomorrow.

"I don't know how long you'll be here before they find you somewhere better," Carol said. "But if you want to stay until they do then why don't we try a trial?"

Sophia picked at her food a minute, pushing it around with her fork. She stopped after a moment and looked at Carol. Carol was almost taken aback by the hard look in the girl's eye.

"They're not moving me out of this house," Sophia said. "If you're waiting on them to call with your salvation then you're waiting in vain because it isn't coming. This is it for me, end of the line. They told you they'd look for somewhere else, but I've heard them talking."

"If you wanted to go back, Sophia, they'd find somewhere for you," Carol said. She really didn't know how the system worked, not entirely, and she had flipped through the girl's file. It was actually quite remarkable how much the girl had apparently been moved around. Carol thought it was sad, when you looked at it on paper, but she could tell that Sophia could be difficult.

She didn't know how much of Sophia's difficulty was owing to the brief blurb typed up about where she came from, how much of it was owing to the shuffling around that she'd done since then, or how much of it was owing to the fact that Sophia was, perhaps, simply an unpleasant person.

Carol thought, though, that there wasn't an end of the line for foster kids, not really. Maybe there was some other place that they went, some special line of parents. Someone better equipped to handle the likes of Sophia…but they would have something for her.

Sophia tightened her lips until they almost disappeared, the freckled skin above them taking their place.

"What kind of trial?" Sophia asked after a moment.

Carol shifted in her chair, putting her napkin beside her finished plate.

"A month," Carol said. "There are rules. You've made it clear that I'm not your mom and you're not my kid. This is still my house, though, and I've been through a lot of shit myself to make it my house. I'm not letting you rule it. I'm willing to discuss the rules, but only if you can do so in a civilized manner. There will be consequences if you break the rules. At the end of a month, we'll sit down and talk about it. If you hate it here, then we'll call services and there will be no hard feelings."

"What do I get out of this?" Sophia asked, narrowing her eyebrows.

"You get food, shelter…we could negotiate for other things," Carol said.

"What kind of rules?" Sophia asked after a moment.

Carol sighed and glanced around the kitchen. She'd only somewhat prepared herself to get this far in the conversation since she never really thought they'd arrive there.

"For one," Carol said, "there's no running away. You can leave here at any time that you want. I'll be glad to call services, but you're not running away again. You come straight home after school unless you let me know where you're going. If you go for a walk, a legitimate walk, then you leave a note."

Sophia didn't respond, she just kept staring at Carol. Carol could only hope that she was listening. Carol thought back to some of things that she'd read in the file the night before, trying to remember what it might be that she needed to set as ground rules for the girl.

"No smoking in the house," Carol said. "I don't particularly like the idea that you smoke at all, but if you're only staying for a month I guess I can deal with it. You're not doing it in my house anymore, though, and I hope you didn't burn anything upstairs."

Sophia looked at her, her mouth opened a little and she looked confused. Carol smiled a little.

"The smoke travels through the whole house, and you smell just like an ashtray. Just because you can't smell it anymore doesn't mean I can't," Carol said. "If you're going to insist on keeping up with the habit for the time being, then I'll give you a bucket outside."

Sophia closed her mouth but continued to stare at Carol.

"Your curfew, should you decide to go out, is nine. You don't go out with anyone unless it's been cleared with me first," Carol said.

Sophia raised her eyebrows at her.

"Anything else?" She asked sarcastically, tossing her head to the side.

"I could do with a little less attitude," Carol said, "but I'll pick my battles. This is still my house. I can change the rules when I want."

Sophia huffed.

"If you don't like them, just let me know. I can call services for you in the morning. Your call," Carol said. "What's it going to be?" She folded her hands across the table.

"So I agree to your rules and you let me stay here?" Sophia asked. "You said we could talk about me getting things…what kinds of things?"

"Depends on what you want," Carol said. "The first thing I'm letting you do that I don't want to let you do is continue with the habit you picked up somewhere of smoking, so that means you've got some time before you start making demands. Your little run away fiasco today is going to have consequences too. You scared me to death. I thought you were going to end up being some kind of child on the back of a milk carton and I was going to have to feel guilty for that forever. You're not getting off on that easily."

Sophia knit her eyebrows together.

"What the hell do you want for that? I came back!" Sophia said. Carol saw something behind her eyes spark.

Carol nodded.

"You came back, but that's not the point. There's all kind of work that needs to be done around here. Plenty to keep you from getting bored after school. I'll be nice at first. The grass needs to be cut, the bushes need to be trimmed, and there's a mailbox under the carport out there that needs to replace the old one on the post and I haven't gotten around to it. You take care of that and I'll forget the fact you ran away," Carol said.

"Anything else?" Sophia asked, leaning on her hand.

Carol thought about it. She shook her head.

"Do we have a deal?" She asked.

Sophia sat there a moment, alternating between scraping her fork across her plate and staring at the table.

"I want a mirror in my bathroom," Sophia said.

Carol smiled.

"I've got one in the attic. I'll put it up for you tomorrow after work instead of having to figure out where you are and how to handle the problem of a missing person. I can do that while you're working outside," Carol said.

Sophia looked at her.

"One month?" Sophia asked.

Carol shrugged.

"You decide. You can leave at any time, but we won't have a formal discussion about it until a month has passed," Carol said.

Sophia nodded her head.

"Deal," she said.

Carol smiled. She was surprised that Sophia would agree to it, but she was willing to give it a try if the girl was genuinely willing to give it a try. She guessed that only time could tell, though.

"I bought ice cream for dessert," Carol said.

"Did you buy board games too?" Sophia asked sarcastically.

"Fine," Carol said. "No ice cream for you, that just means more for me."

Carol got up and gathered up the finished plates.

"I do want some," Sophia said watching Carol carry the dishes into the kitchen.

"Sarcasm isn't a good topping for ice cream," Carol said. She heard Sophia's loud huff and the following sucking of teeth. "If you apologized, though, you'd be welcome to have some. Otherwise I'm eating it all myself."

"Fine," Sophia said. Carol snickered to herself since the tone she'd acquired was yet again the tone that sounded like rolling eyeballs. Carol hated to admit it, but she remembered well employing that tone against her own mother. "I'm sorry. Can I have some ice cream?"

"Why not?" Carol said.

She made the ice cream and brought it to the table, dropping a bowl in front of Sophia. Part of Carol was pretty sure this was going to crash and burn. It would probably blow up in her face within about three days. She wasn't a very lucky person and pretty much everything in her life had been a complete failure. Everything she'd set out after with high hopes had pretty much tail spun out of control before she'd even got going good. Still, she was stuck in this now so she might as well ride it out to the end. As long as Sophia didn't end up on the six o'clock news she could still send her back whenever she was ready to go and feel like she'd hopefully done the girl no lasting damage. She'd just end up being another name, probably forgotten by the girl, stapled inside the cover of Sophia's file.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: A little more to this one. Again, we will be seeing Carol/Daryl you have my promise on that, but it's just not quite time yet. It's hard for me to gauge exactly, but I'm thinking we may have two or so chapters to go before the first meeting. :-) **

**I'm so glad to see that you're still enjoying this story, though, and we're starting to slowly get more and more into it. It means a lot to hear from you! **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think!**

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Carol held her breath most of the way home hoping that Sophia would be there and she wasn't making some colossal mistake in trusting that the girl wasn't going to make another break for it. She'd seen her head out to meet the bus that morning, her back pack thrown over her shoulder, and she'd briefly checked her room afterwards just to make sure that the suitcase was there. She didn't want to look in it, not wanting to invade the girl's privacy, but she had lifted it enough to see that it had some weight to it and the girl hadn't simply taken what she couldn't leave behind and packed it into the bag.

She had felt, most of the day at work, like the girl had at least gone to school, and maybe she was really willing to give this a go.

Carol had lie in bed, her book open, the night before without reading a word of it. Over and over in her mind she turned the idea of keeping Sophia there for at least a month. She would go through ebbs and flows of emotion. At one moment she felt as though she was going to make some great impact on the girl…that things might work…that she might actually be able to be good at this "parenting" thing. Then the old voice…mostly Ed's voice…would ring into her head, taunting her and reminding her of everything that she'd failed at so far. Sophia wasn't going to stay. She was going to end up suffering from whatever time she did spend there. Carol had nothing to offer her.

As Carol neared the house, though, she could already hear the hum of the lawnmower. As she pulled into the drive she almost screamed at herself seeing Sophia cutting the grass with the push lawnmower she'd rolled out of the shed for her before work. The girl was still here. She'd gone to school and she'd come back, and now she was keeping up with her end of the bargain, doing her time for having run away.

Carol tried not to be too excited by the progress. It could be that the girl was just afraid of what she believed to be the end of the line at child services. She might just be biding some time. At least, though, for the time being, she was putting forth some kind of effort.

Carol got out of the car and crossed the lawn toward the girl.

"Sophia?" She called. She had to repeat it two or three times before Sophia killed the engine on the lawnmower and stopped to look at her.

"What do you want?" Sophia asked, shading her eyes with her hand.

"Did you eat anything?" Carol asked.

Sophia crinkled her face at her and shook her head.

"I'm going to make you a snack, then," Carol said. "I'll leave it on the table and you can get it when you want. I'm going to find your bathroom mirror."

Sophia nodded and Carol went inside.

She didn't know what in the world to feed teenagers. She hoped that graham crackers and peanut butter weren't too juvenile. She lathered some peanut butter on several crackers on plate and put it on the table. She figured that Sophia could get something out of the fridge to drink and she didn't want it to be hot or anything when the girl decided it was time for a break. For good measure she put a bag of chips in the middle of the table in case the crackers didn't look like a decent meal offering to an angry teen.

Carol took one of the crackers and ate it as she started through the house. She promised Sophia a mirror, and though she didn't exactly relish the thought of going up into the attic where they were stored, along with most everything she'd boxed up that was left behind of her life with Ed, she intended to keep her end of the bargain as well.

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Sophia didn't mind cutting the grass. Cutting grass was monotonous and repetitive and everything else, but it didn't require Sophia to think about anything really in particular and gave her all the time to consider what she wanted to focus on.

She'd felt strange lying in bed the night before. She knew that this so called deal was going to last a month. Then they were going to talk about it, see if it worked or not. The strangest thing about it, though, was knowing that it was going to last a month.

Most everywhere else she'd been, her view of how long things would last had been different. In the very beginning, when she'd gone to her first maybe two foster homes, she'd still been living in some kind of stupid world where she thought that happily ever after wasn't just the ending to corny ass books. She'd thought that foster life was about happily ever afters. She still remembered her first family. She'd gone to stay with them about four months after she went into the system. They were the Johansen family.

She remembered them well, actually, almost better than she remembered her real parents at this point. She painted in her mind a picture of what the hell the Johansen family would be. The mother had long brown hair and she was a little on the heavier side. She'd insisted that Sophia call her mom. The dad had been the All American kind of dad and probably played high school football once upon a time.

She could remember their little fucking storybook house too. Everything in it was damn near perfect. They didn't have any other kids. They were waiting on their precious little foster child. Sophia remembered being so damn excited at the thought that she almost couldn't believe it. She'd already heard some of the older kids she'd come into contact with telling her that she was too old to be any good to anyone, but the Johansen family was different. They were waiting, after all, for their foster child.

Her room had been like some kind of child to a pretty pink princess, and even though she didn't care much for the color pink and the toys were for a child much, much younger than she was, she would have done anything when she got there to be their little pink princess. She was staying with them forever. They wanted her, after all, they'd been waiting on her.

Sophia had never really understood what had gone wrong with the Johansen family. They'd been the first ones to teach her that she was refundable. They'd gotten their money back or upgraded her or something. She hadn't ever really understood the whole thing. Then, a little heartbroken, she'd found her second family. She'd halfheartedly tried to believe they were forever too, but she was less surprised when something went wrong there.

She just messed up…that's what always happened. Somewhere something went wrong. She did something wrong because she didn't know how to do things right. Or maybe it was just because she wasn't ever meant to be one of those kids with the stupid family vacation shit.

After that, though, she'd realized that happily ever after was just the load of shit that the others said it was. There wasn't any happily ever after, there was just killing time until they figured out you were defective. There was hanging out until one of your many fuck ups was just one fuck up too many.

The good families returned you quickly and the ones that turned out to be a nightmare took a little longer, but eventually they'd trade you in. Done and done.

So a new house meant more or less wondering how long it would be exactly before the shoe fell. How long until it was out the door and back to the starting line. Sophia had pretty much started expecting her departure from the moment she arrived. She could tell from how her room was decorated exactly what the expectation was too. If she got there and the room was ready for someone who couldn't see out of the windows, the stay was much, much shorter and it came with more tension than she could bear.

Here, though, she knew she had a month. At least she had that amount of time to figure out her next move and to figure out what she'd do to get as far away from the social workers as possible. She may be disposable, but at least this time she had an expiration date to let her know exactly how comfortable she could get.

Sophia had almost finished the front lawn. It wasn't as bad as she thought either. The back, however, that was going to be at least a two day affair, probably. It looked like some kind of jungle back there and she wondered if Carol had cut the grass anytime in the last century.

Sophia killed the engine and decided it was time to go in and see what the hell kind of snack she was supposed to eat. She could use a cigarette too, and the rules didn't stipulate that she finish the yard immediately. She had a month to do it in, at least that was the way she saw it.

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Carol came into the attic and looked around for a few minutes. She pulled at the string hanging down and the fluorescent bulb burned to life. She was surprised, actually. She hadn't been up there in years and she thought the thing wasn't likely to still burn, but it did.

The attic was crowded, and she decided immediately that if she were looking for some kind of project to kill time in the near future it probably needed to be dragging half the shit out of there that she could get down the ladder without breaking her neck, and loading it out on the lawn. Even if she sold everything in there for fifty cents an item she'd probably make a decent chunk of pocket change.

The mirrors were right where she left them. They were leaned one against the other in a massive pile in the corner of the attic. They were covered with several dirty sheets that she'd kept, for whatever hoarding inclination was deep inside her, since the day they'd moved into the house. Happy newlyweds and all that bullshit.

Carol shuddered. The entire attic was like some testament to her failed marriage. It was a space packed full of all the cobweb covered crap that reminded her of her pathetic life thus far. The things she cleaned out of her parents' house after their death, everything that didn't sell and she didn't have the heart to throw out. Everything she had acquired while married to Ed and tucked up there for safe keeping until she decided what to do with it. She hated the space, and though she couldn't even remember half of what was probably piled up there, she hated everything that was in there.

But today she was on a mission, and it wasn't to clean out all the stuff she had piled up. Today her mission was simply to dig through the pile of mirrors and find the one that fit over the bathroom sink in the upstairs bathroom. It was a simple enough thing to accomplish.

Carol took a deep breath and walked over to the pile. She wasn't sure, exactly, why her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, but it did. She blamed her lack of breath on the thick air in the space and the dust from having never cleaned up there.

Carol pulled the sheet back and revealed the mirrors, innocent as they were supposed to be, piled up. She closed her eyes, wishing she could do this blind. It would be easier if she could simply grab the top one and go, but she'd put them up there willy nilly and she needed to look at them to make sure she had the one that would fit in the space that Sophia wanted it in.

Carol moved one or two of the mirrors out of the way, the smaller ones. She sat on her knees on the floor trying not to look at anything more than the frames and trying to think about where some of them had come from. When she had to move, though, the large one that had hung on the back of the bedroom door to get to the thicker framed bathroom mirror that was hiding behind it, the one that she wanted, she froze just as her fingers curled around the frame.

Just touching that frame brought the nightmares flooding back to her. She closed her eyes a moment, she wasn't going to look into it. She couldn't look into it. Just touching it and feeling the grain of the wood under her palms made her shudder. She knew the damn thing far too well. Her breath shortened a little and she could hear loud and clear Ed's voice ringing around in her head.

_Look at yourself. Open your fucking eyes and get a good look at yourself! See what the hell I have to see…you think anyone would want to look at that? You're too damn ugly for anyone to look at. You can't even look at yourself. You're pissed about that eye? Improving the quality of your fucking face. You'd be a whore except no one would have you. You'd have to pay them, ugly bitch. Open your fucking eyes and look at what the fuck I have to see. So damn ugly you almost break the damn mirror and you think you could do better than me…_

So many times the humiliation went on and on. Her brain replayed it for her over and over, episode after episode. It was stuck like a hellish rerun. She couldn't even stand to look at herself while she showered or got dressed. She didn't want to see herself naked at all. She hated shaving even because she had to look at her legs. Her ugly ass, skinny, bird legs every time she did it. She had to look at the cellulite on her thighs…at the scars.

Carol shuttered as the voice continued its taunting. She could feel the tears burning her eyes against her will, running down her face and her breath coming shallower. She didn't know quite what boiled up inside her or what made her do it, but she did what she wanted to do all those times before. She slung hated mirror and its despicable frame.

The mirror crashed down beside her, shattering from the force with which she'd flung it toward the floor, the glass busting out in it and showering down around her, piece of it ricocheting off of her. She sat still for a moment, calmed a little by the loud crash of one physical source of her nightmares. She should have broken the thing years ago. She should have never even moved it to the attic. The voice wasn't gone, but at least the mirror couldn't taunt her now.

"What was that?" She heard a voice calling from the hallway below. Carol was snatched back into reality for the moment. The present day where Ed's voice didn't come from anywhere but inside her brain. Sophia was in the house. She'd thought she'd be outside, but she'd heard the crash. "Hello? Are you alive?" Sophia's voice called, getting closer to the entrance to the attic.

"I'm fine," Carol called out, finding her own voice shaky. "Don't come up here, Sophia, there's glass everywhere."

"What happened? Are you OK?" Sophia's voice answered back.

Carol tried not to give into her shaking nerves and sob.

"I'm fine, Sophia. I just dropped something, don't come up here," she said. Carol scrambled, trying to gain her feet quickly. Glass was all around her and she felt the tiny shards biting into her, the slight sting of them catching her attention for a second. She put her hand down on a piece, not seeing it before she did and picked it up, wincing at the shard stuck in her palm. She picked it out quickly with her fingertips and pulled herself to her feet, crying out when she realized a larger piece must have cut into her shin.

"What the hell is happening up there?" Sophia called from below the ladder.

"It's OK," Carol called. "I'm going to pass you down the mirror, can you take it?"

"Sure…" Sophia sounded hesitant about the whole ordeal, but Carol picked up the bathroom mirror that had been hiding behind the full sized one that was now shattered around the floor. She eased the mirror through the hole and Sophia took it. Carol started down the ladder after Sophia moved away. She needed to clean up the cuts and get the little splinters of glass out of the way and then she could sweep up what was left of the mirror. It would sting to wash the cuts out with alcohol, but at least it was the last time that mirror would hurt her…and she was sure that the cuts would be the least of the pain it had caused.

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Carol sat on the side of the bathtub in her underwear, having shucked her pants to sew up the gash in her shin. It was too big to ignore and too small to worry about in her opinion. She had her "kit" as she called it open on the edge with her and she was just beginning to put in the few stitches it needed when she heard footsteps. She froze and looked to see Sophia standing in the doorway.

"I'm not dressed," Carol said. She wasn't exactly undressed, but she was in her underwear. Sophia didn't seem deterred, though. She didn't say anything but walked closer.

"Christ!" Sophia spat. "Are you sewing your leg up?"

Carol nodded.

"It's not bad," she said. "Just probably won't close on its own."

Sophia's face was crinkled up and she leaned against the wall, her eyes still locked on the gash. Carol turned her attention back to it assuming that the girl was inviting herself to stay for her home surgery. She'd learned, over the years, to tend a good number of wounds. Ed wasn't exactly fond of the idea of taking her to the doctor or the hospital for things that happened. If it could be handled in the bathroom, then it was better she figure out how to do it herself. She usually paid, in some way, for anything that got out of control enough to send her to medical personnel. They liked to ask questions, and they liked to give looks, and all that bothered Ed. If she didn't want a busted lip or a black eye to go with her stitches or burn care, she figured out how to handle it.

This cut really wasn't anything to be concerned about. She figured four or five stitches and it would be almost as good as before. It would scar, but scars she had, another wouldn't exactly be something tragic.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Sophia asked, not moving from her position.

Carol shrugged a little, finishing up her handiwork and putting a bandage over it to match the other smaller bandages she'd put over the one or two cuts that would heal on their own.

"It's not so bad," Carol said. She looked at Sophia and the girl was looking at her strangely. After a minute she stepped forward.

"You've got a little one," Sophia said, pointing to her cheek. Carol got up and glanced quickly into the mirror. On her cheek there was a little scratch from a piece of something…she'd probably never have noticed it until one day she scratched the tiny grain of a scab off that would have formed there. She picked up one of the cotton balls and dabbed at it.

"Thanks," she said.

Sophia didn't offer to leave the room and Carol figured at this point the girl was not bothered by her lack of pants. She cleaned up quickly and tucked the kit back under the sink where she kept it. She went for clean pants in her bedroom, Sophia quietly following behind her.

Carol unfolded a pair of jeans and slipped into them.

"Have you lost weight?" Sophia asked.

"What?" Carol responded.

Sophia narrowed her eyes at her, almost hugging the wall.

"Have you lost weight? Your clothes don't fit," Sophia said. "Did you used to weigh more?"

Carol hadn't paid much attention to her clothes at any point since she'd married Ed. She needed clothes to keep her covered and that was about it. She was overweight, poorly built, and there was nothing there to showcase. Ed had a fit about her clothes as it was, always getting mad about the fit of one thing or another. She'd taken to trying to hide her body as much as possible, from him, from everyone else, and from herself. The better they hid things, the better they fit, that was her opinion on the matter.

Carol shrugged a little, suddenly terribly uncomfortable under the girl's gaze. She cleared her throat.

"They're fine. I have to clean the attic. Did you finish the grass?" She asked. She suddenly just wanted Sophia not to be staring at her the way she had been.

"I didn't finish," Sophia said. "I was eating when you broke the mirror…"

"Could you go and finish, please?" Carol asked. She smiled as warmly as she could force herself to smile, trying to cover up the way she was feeling all of a sudden.

Sophia looked a little struck, her eyebrows creasing together.

"Yeah…" she said, a little hesitantly. She disappeared out of the room and Carol turned around for a moment resting her elbows on her dresser and resting her head in her hands. She stayed there for a moment until she felt calmer. She needed to get the broom and dustpan and she needed to sweep up the remnants of that hated mirror that now lie scattered over the attic floor.

Once it was out of the house, out of her life forever, she could start cooking dinner. Sophia would need something to eat, especially after mowing the lawn, and it was starting to get late. She'd spent enough hours today with Ed…and she knew well enough to know that having spent so much time with him meant that he'd be visiting her again when she finally closed her eyes. He was always there when she closed her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I may get to write something later…but until I do here's a little snippet more as we continue on. This is kind of a bit more to plot development/character building/etc. It's also a little lighter in tone due to its location in the story. Thank you all for your reviews and such to the last chapter. I'm so excited to see that you're interested in where we're going. There's a lot of work to do with our characters. **

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!**

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The men who worked with Daryl Dixon were all assholes of some greater or lesser degree, and the term "work" was used very generously with most of them.

Mac was the oldest of them by far. He was old enough, probably, to be Daryl's old man and he looked like he had once been the stereotypical biker attempting to be some kind of wannabe Hell's Angel. Now he was just an older man with gray hair that hung about shoulder length which he kept, most of the time, pulled back in a ponytail. He was theoretically something of a mechanic and something of a body man, but in practice he knew just enough about either position to be dangerous. Daryl had heard somewhere that those who can't teach…he didn't believe that. He believed the truth was something more like what Mac had going for him: those who can't, supervise. Mac also believed himself to be something of a philosopher…a regular Socrates of bullshit, and he spread it around freely. Mac was on, from what Daryl could tell, his fifth or sixth marriage. It was hard to be sure, though, since he liked to marry the same woman more than once just to make sure he really did hate her when he divorced her and gave her half his shit.

Then there was Wren. Wren was younger than Mac but older than Merle. He was just over five foot tall and if he weighed ninety pounds Daryl would have asked him to empty his pockets. The one saving grace about Wren was that he was a cheerful little asshole, though an asshole nonetheless, and he did something to keep morale raised around the two bit shop. He was a painter and a body man, though he believed strictly in doing no more than what was going to earn him the pathetic wages on which he lived. He had been at the shop since the beginning, from what Daryl knew about him, and had been married to Nellie, the rough riding woman who bore his two sons, for almost that long. Mac joked that Wren and Nellie married young and they married drunk, and the only damn reason they never got divorced is because neither of them had sobered up enough to sign their names to the papers yet.

Next in rank, at least based on age and therefore level of asshole experience perhaps, was Merle. He was Daryl's older brother and known around the shop almost exclusively as "Dixon", though Daryl didn't call him that. Merle was supposed to be a mechanic, but for the most part he was simply another in the ranks of the half ass skill workers that populated the joint and excelled in hungover shit talking. In particular he liked to talk shit to Daryl since he'd had the most practice at it.

And then finally in the hierarchy of assholes, and consequently the only one who did more than absolutely necessary to keep the shop afloat, there was Daryl. Around the shop he was mostly called by his name…something strange for the crew…but the nickname Double D was employed a good deal by Wren when he felt it added some flavor to whatever he was trying to get across to the sales representatives, parts men, and the other characters that came around to hang over every surface of the place, presumably because they lacked other employment.

Any variety of shop hands could pass through the doors on a given day. Mac hired and rehired the same pimply faced little shits over and over. They'd come to the shop looking to make a buck, talking big about how they were going to be big shits one day, and then they'd quit when they had enough to take some buck toothed girl out to dinner and bang her in the back of their piece of shit cars. Daryl didn't bother to learn the names of any of the shop hands. To him they were as interchangeable as Santa's reindeer or some shit like that.

There was also the man that Mac called Tootie. Tootie worked for another small shop on the other side of town and drove the only tow truck in the area. Tootie's Towing was the name of his little towing business, and really his only claim to fame. The shop he had was really more a holding bin for the cars he towed until they got sorted to either go to one of the fancy dealerships in the area, mostly employed by out of towners that got changed more regularly than most people's underwear, or to go to Mac's for those who preferred the small town feel of a job done half ass unless they asked for Daryl specifically and slipped Mac a few pieces of folding money under the table. Daryl didn't have half a clue what Tootie's real name was, but he knew it wasn't Tootie.

The shop then, owing to the high concentration of assholes, was a pretty rough place in general. Daryl would have cringed to think of anyone coming there who was looking for even a hint of political correctness. Nothing was sacred at Mac's, not one damn thing, and women especially beware. The only time there was a shred of decency to be found anywhere in the concrete structure was when a customer was present, but you could guarantee it was temporary and their taillights wouldn't fade before at least one person had started jacking their jaws about them.

Daryl was busy, this particular day, water sanding a car that they were working on and running possibilities of paint colors over and over in his mind for the Coupe that he was working on in the evenings. He had a long way to go yet, but he liked to think about colors long before he needed them, trying each one out in his mind. The color of a car brought out its personality. The most beautiful car could be discredited if the paint wasn't right…and likewise one that might not have all the nicest curves and edges could seem damn near showpiece quality given the right color. And it just so happened that of all the aspects of body work that Daryl excelled in, and that was damn near every aspect, painting was at the top of the list. His concentration on trying out the various colors in his mind, though, was broken by the voice of Wren echoing through the shop over the sounds of Mac and Merle who were pretending to be doing something while Wren hung outside one of the stalls and smoked a cigarette.

"Double D, your girlfriend's here!" Wren called out, his chuckle echoing around Daryl. Daryl cringed. According to Wren, everyone was Daryl's girlfriend. It didn't matter if they were male or female, young or old…and Daryl had the sneaking suspicion that alive or dead wasn't much of a criteria either, except for the fact that dead folks didn't frequent Mac's and remind Wren's pickled mind that Daryl was dating them in some alternate universe. In fact, the least pleasant the idea of having the person as a "girlfriend" might be, the more adamant Wren became that this was indeed the love of Daryl's life. That meant, of course, that Daryl couldn't wait to see who was coming to jack their jaws and shoot the shit with the cast of characters he worked with.

"Suck my dick, Wren," Daryl shot back. He didn't bother to move from his position. He never did when someone came to the shop. He let the other assholes converse if they wanted to, but he continued on in his own world doing whatever the hell it was he was doing at the time, and only half listening to whatever spewed forth from their mouths.

"Who the hell is it, Wren?" Mac called from underneath the car he was supposed to be working on with Merle. Daryl knew that really Mac would be accomplishing more mechanical work if he were under there tugging on his dick, but appearances were everything.

"Hell if I know!" Wren shot back, his voice raising a few octaves which normally indicated that Wren was refraining from talking out his ass for the moment. His voiced dropped immediately after and resumed the tone that told Daryl he was amusing himself. "Pippi fucking Longstocking or some shit like that…got more knees and elbows than a damn granddaddy longlegs."

From Wren's given name Daryl didn't know who the hell it was, but that was nothing new or original. Wren had a habit of nicknaming everyone and your nickname was subject to change without warning. Pippi could have been anyone who had struck Wren, at least for the moment, as bearing some vague resemblance.

"How do?" Wren called, presumably as Pippi neared the open door to the stall. Daryl never heard a response from Pippi and continued water sanding. He never heard Wren say anything else either. He held his folded square of sandpaper out to the side and ran the water from the hose over it, aiming the spray toward the drain in the floor nearest his feet, and his eyes darted over a pair or dirty, well worn, blue sneakers standing a little less than a foot from him. He glanced up, his hair falling slightly in his eyes and his vision danced across the features of the run away.

"The fuck ya doin' here?" Daryl asked.

"What are you doing?" The girl asked, watching Daryl and circling, just a bit around the car, her hand shooting out and finger darting into one of the holes on the back of the body he was water sanding where the taillight would later be fitted in.

"I'm water sanding," Daryl said. "And if ya don't know that shit just goes ta show ya ought not be here. What the fuck ya doin' here? D'ja run the fuck away again?"

Sophia shook her head.

"No, I didn't run away," she responded. "I just came to look around."

"That's right, Double D, no need to be so damn inhospitable," Mac said apparently having decided to take some kind of break from the no doubtedly hard work he'd been employed at until Sophia's presence provided a distraction. "Del Shannon here was just coming to look around…see what this fine establishment has to offer."

"What the hell did you call me?" Sophia asked, crinkling her nose.

"And she's got quite the personality," Wren responded from off to the side.

"If you don't know who Del Shannon is," Mac said, "then you might not be old enough to be hanging around here."

"Damn straight ya ain't old enough. Get'cha ass back on home where ya belong," Daryl said. "This ain't no place for ya."

Sophia ignored him, though. She walked a wide circle around him and ventured further into the shop. She walked along in front of the work counter, picking at things there. She had the full attention, for the moment, of everyone in the shop. It wasn't often that females came to Mac's, and it was even less often that young girls showed up at the shop.

Daryl was uncomfortable with the presence. He didn't know how long it would take the assholes around him to insult Sophia or how long it would take for the first one of them to spout the word pussy like it had an expiration date, but he knew it was coming. He didn't know why it bothered him, or why he cared at all, but he would rather the girl not be subjected to the dickheads he worked with.

"This place is damn near filthy," Sophia said suddenly, looking around. Her statement brought forth a howl of laughter from Daryl's three comrades.

"You see, Pippi," Wren said, "that's what the hell happens in a shop. Wouldn't go eatin' off any of the floors if you know what I mean."

"So because you assholes work on cars it means none of you got the common sense to use a broom?" Sophia asked, her face crinkled up.

Another howl of laughter rang through the shop and Daryl couldn't stop himself from chuckling at that one. He supposed that the thick layer of gray dust, the patches of kitty litter scattered around the floor, and the other scraps of trash here and there would look out of place to most, but at Mac's it was part of the experience.

Still, Mac's was no place for a girl to be leaning against the counter. Daryl didn't want to think of all the things she'd hear in the next five minutes if no one got her out of there.

"I'm serious now," Daryl said. "Get on outta here and go back where the hell ya came from. Ya parents is gonna be worried."

"Told you," Sophia said, "ain't got no parents."

"Would you look at that," Wren called out, "we got ourselves one of the lost boys."

"You were wrong, Wren," Mac said, "her name ain't Pippi, it's Wendy."

Sophia made a face at Mac.

"This ain't no place for ya," Daryl said. "Ya best get on outta here. Don't no damn body in here got no sense."

"Eh…'cept you, aye lil' brotha?" Merle called from where he was now leaning against the body of the car that he'd been tinkering on with Mac. "Protectin' ya lil' girlfriend from the likes a' us…damn savages that we are." He chuckled. "Why not let ole Wendy here hang around? We short hands an' she knows better than all a' us…"

Daryl didn't have time to care about this shit. He'd already warned the girl a couple of times that she'd be best to shimmy her ass right on back to where she came from, but she wasn't budging from the spot where she was leaned against the counter.

"What does a hand do?" Sophia asked.

The three stooges all chuckled at the girl and Daryl picked up his water hose giving it a couple of quick sprays before settling back into his work. She'd learn soon enough that she'd chosen a place that wasn't meant for a woman and sure as shit wasn't meant for knobby kneed girl that couldn't even drive the cars they fixed.

Mac looked around and dug in his pocket pulling out the balled up pack of chewing tobacco he stored there. He shoveled some into his mouth and arranged it with his tongue.

"Well now…let's see. If you was to be a hand 'round here you'd clean up…sweep, take out the trash…and you'd wash and vacuum cars. Wren here could show you how we detail 'em 'fore customers pick 'em up…other things, little things," Mac said.

"Ya pay?" Sophia asked.

Mac chuckled.

"Well, Wendy, if ya do a fine job of it…there's enough money in it I reckon to get'cha some candy…maybe a _sody pop_," Mac drew out, a smirk across his face.

Sophia tilted her head and raised her eyebrow.

"How much?" She asked.

Mac sucked his teeth and looked around. He was the one that ran the place so none of the others would have the answer to the question.

"Two bucks an hour to start," Mac said. "Two fifty if ya keep Wren's sorry ass in line and make him earn half his wages…we'll see how you work out."

"Mac's one generous son of a bitch," Merle growled, laughing. "Ya oughta earn seven fifty just for keepin' Wren's sorry ass in line. That's a full time fuckin' position right there."

Sophia lifted her lip at him and knit her eyebrows together.

"So I'm guessing I could retire on what he'd pay me to keep you in line, right?" Sophia asked.

Mac nearly choked on the tobacco juice and made a beeline for the trash can to spit. Wren cackled and leaned against the door frame he'd been holding firmly in place since Sophia's arrival, and Merle even offered a light chuckle before reaching down to pick the wrench up off the floor that he'd been using earlier and dip back under the hood.

"So what'cha say, Wendy? Two fifty to start?" Mac asked. "You gotta keep up with your own hours though, I ain't got time to go running around after you."

Sophia considered it a moment, tracing her finger in the dust on the counter next to her. She wiped her hands together to blend the gray dirt into her skin and shook her head.

"You got it," she said. "I can work after school five days a week…don't got nothing better to do on the weekends. Might as well earn two fifty an hour cleaning up after you assholes."

She wiped her hand on her pants and stepped forward, offering it to Mac. He chuckled and clasped her tiny white hand in his much larger, chapped paw.

"Ain't open on Sundays," he said, "but if you wanta put in a couple of hours catchin' up, Daryl's always here. You can pop in and finish what we left for you on Saturday. We only work half days on Saturday…done by two."

"Two to five we catch up on what we ain't done all week," Wren offered.

"Two to five ya drink fuckin' beer an' hide out from Nellie," Merle said with a snort.

"Daryl's here then too," Mac said. "Son of a bitch don't never leave, so you just keep up with your hours and let the fucker vouch for you."

Daryl looked up from what he was doing. It was bad enough that the three idiots were inviting some girl to come and be ruined by their bad habits and to trip him up six days a week when he couldn't escape their sorry asses, but now Mac was inviting her to spend her Sundays up there too wrecking his productive periods. He couldn't get shit done if she was going to be underfoot and he wasn't about to babysitter to no little girls who didn't know where their place was.

"Ain't no need ta come on Sundays," he grumbled. "Ain't shit for ya on no damn Sunday…ain't no damn place for ya the whole damn week, but ya sure as shit don't need ta be here on Sunday. Don't look right no damn girl hangin' 'round no shop alone with a man."

"Who's gonna be here?" Merle asked. "I thought it was just you that was gonna be here, lil' brotha, ain't heard no mention a' no damn man."

"Fuck you, Merle," Daryl growled. He went back to working, seeing that he'd never win this. He was out numbered and out assholed. The only hope he had was that the kid's parents showed up and had the good sense to put a stop to the shit. They'd probably be pissed at him if they found out she was up here sticking her stupid freckled nose into his shit, when really he wasn't the one who wanted her around. The other three men probably wanted her around for entertainment…same damn reason the fed every mangy shop hound that wandered up their way.

"I'll come after school," Sophia said finally. "See how it works out. If I like it here and there's something for me to do, then I'll see about Saturday until y'all are done."

"Suit yourself," Mac said. "Friday's payday and there ain't no benefits and no advances. You get paid for what you do and that's all."

Sophia nodded her head.

"I'll get started now," she said. "What time do you close up?"

"Shop closes at six," Mac said. "But you come and go as you please. Like I said, ain't got time to go running around behind your ass."

"Fine," Sophia said. "I'll stay today until five thirty. You can just pay me next Friday."

Mac shrugged and started back under the car from which he had come. Sophia, apparently considering the matter closed, crossed the shop and pulled one of the large brooms off the wall to start pushing the dust, litter, and trash out the door while Wren watched her.

"Don't you have something you should be doing?" Sophia asked as she swept past him the first time.

"Waitin' on something," Wren said.

"What are you waiting on?" Sophia asked.

"Closin' time," Wren responded.

Daryl shook his head and watched a second as Sophia continued to sweep, undeterred by Wren.

"Don't sweep over here," Daryl protested as she got nearer his area.

"I'm not, cool your jets," Sophia said. "I'm not stupid, you know…I think I know what happens when dirt and water mix together."

"Damn straight," Wren said. "They teach that shit in school and our Wendy here's probably val-e-dic-torian."

"Not quite, but I'm impressed," Sophia said. "That's a pretty big word for you…over two syllables and all."

Daryl shook his head again but couldn't help but snicker. As soon as the girl's parents, who she declared not to have, caught wind of her new position, she wouldn't be back, but until then he couldn't help but laugh at anyone who would give shit back to any of the fuckers he was forced to work with, even if she was just a kid.

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When Carol got home from work the mailbox had been replaced and the front yard was done. She got out of the car and made her way up the porch, admiring the good job that Sophia had done.

The previous evening Carol had felt guilty about the whole thing. Sophia had been a little strange toward her after she broke the mirror and Carol worried that she'd been too harsh with the girl when she'd been staring at her. She hadn't meant to be, but she was afraid that she'd overreacted purely because of her own adrenaline.

Sophia had spent the rest of the evening outside working in the yard and had only come in when Carol had finally begged her to have dinner, insisting that it was too dark to even see what she was doing.

Feeling guilty, Carol had bought the fixings to make brownies and cupcakes for the girl for dessert. She had no idea what Sophia liked and didn't like, and she knew that she needed to get around to having her make a list or something, but she hoped that she could offer the sweets as some kind of peace offering…as some way of apologizing for being the difficult person that she knew she had a tendency to be.

When Carol got to the door and found it locked, though, she got concerned. Sophia wasn't home, but the fact that she'd put the mailbox up, which wasn't up this morning, meant that the girl had been there already. Carol unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping the groceries on the table. She called out a few times, but Sophia wasn't there to respond.

Carol felt her stomach churn and realized that she'd apparently upset the girl bad enough that she'd run off. She was about to start looking for the number to call when she noticed, stuck in the middle of the refrigerator door, a magnet stuck in the middle, was a piece of the yellow legal pad that kept getting pushed around the counter. Carol walked over and took it off the fridge, holding it up to read it.

_Gone to shop. Sophia_

Carol stood there a moment, confused. Sophia had left her a note, which she had asked her to do if she was leaving the house. It didn't make any sense, though. If Sophia had intents to go shopping then she'd quickly find that it was probably a ten mile walk to the nearest place she could really buy anything…and Carol didn't know where the girl got money.

Carol stood there a minute, looking at the note in her hand. She put it down on the counter finally and walked through the house, mounting the steps and going down the hall. She knocked and opened the door to Sophia's room. Her suitcase was in the middle of the floor and Carol lifted it, checking it for weight. Her backpack was on her bed and some of the books were scattered on the bed.

Carol looked around. Nothing was abnormal and nothing was out of place. The door had been locked and there was a note on the fridge.

She supposed it was possible to assume that Sophia had come home from school, finished up with the front yard and the mailbox, and decided to take off somewhere…apparently to shop…but it just didn't make a lot of sense.

Carol sighed and rubbed at her face trying to figure out what she should do. She didn't know what the right thing to do in this situation was. What would a parent of a teenager do?

She decided, finally, that she'd trust Sophia's note and take it at face value. The girl had done what she'd asked her to do…at least so far. Carol decided to go and start dinner. She'd given the girl a curfew and she couldn't remember exactly what time it had been. Eight? Nine? She decided she'd wait it out for a bit and see if Sophia decided to return from her shopping trip. Then she could request some kind of explanation. She supposed, though, that if she hadn't seen the girl by ten, she would have to call the police or something.

Carol tried to focus on dinner, but she was almost a nervous wreck. She kept glancing at the clock, nearly every two or three minutes, and hoping that this wasn't going to go as badly as she thought it might. She closed her eyes a few times and prayed the girl was being straight with her and that she'd be back from whatever she was doing, but the fear that she was going to have to call the cops…that she was going to have to admit that she did something as stupid as trust this "troubled" teen to be home alone…that they weren't going to find Sophia…that something was going to happen to her and Carol would have to live with that and know that she hadn't been smart enough to stop it…all of that kept bubbling up inside her.

She was almost shaking by the time she heard the sound of the metal storm door squeak open and she turned around to Sophia pushing her way through the door and into the house. Carol let out the breath that she'd been holding for a moment, hoping that it wasn't evident on her face how relieved she was to see that whatever the cryptic note had meant…at least Sophia was back. There was time for explanations…there was always time for that…but at least Sophia had kept her word and she'd come back safely from wherever she'd decided to go.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: This chapter comes with a disclaimer. That disclaimer is that I do not like this chapter. I'm not sure why I don't like it and I'm not sure what I would do to fix it besides scrap the whole thing. That being said, I'm not going to scrap it because I wrote it after work and I'm too tired to scrap what I did with my free time after work. LOL It's got some things that needed to be covered to move onto future chapters that I hope to write better and more to my liking. I guess this is one of those kind of transition chapters that happens sometimes as a necessary evil. I hope that you'll forgive me for this one just not being good. I may get one of the future (and hopefully better) chapters out soon to try to make up for it a little. **

**I hope it's not terrible. :-/ Sorry.**

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"Sophia, you're not talking about down there at Robert McLurey's shop are you? Mac's shop?" Carol asked. She'd asked Sophia where she'd been and Sophia had somewhat gaily informed her that she had a job…at a shop. Carol had, of course, thought that she'd been talking about some place to go shopping, but as she continued to detail what she'd be doing there, Carol was realizing that Sophia was not considering working at some boutique somewhere.

"That's it," Sophia said, stabbing her broccoli. "Mac's. Mac's the old guy, though, but he's not the only one there."

Carol sat there, once again not sure what she was supposed to do in this situation. Sophia seemed thrilled about her job, but Carol knew that a place like Mac's was very probably not a place that would be good for a girl Sophia's age. She couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of role models the people that worked there were.

"Sophia," Carol said, "are there any women there?"

Sophia shook her head.

"There's Mac and Wren. Then there's Merle but Mac and Wren call him Dixon, and then there's Daryl, but they like to call him Double D," Sophia said.

Carol shuddered a little and curled her lip without being able to control it at the thought of how one might land such a nickname as "Double D".

"Sophia," Carol said, "I know of Robert McLurey, and I know of Robert Wren as well…I don't know about the other two. They're not exactly the best company for young girls."

"They're cool guys," Sophia said. "They run their mouths a lot, but they're funny."

"They're a rough crowd, Sophia," Carol said. "Mac's been in jail a few times and Wren's been there plenty of times. It's probably not the kind of atmosphere you want to be in…"

Sophia looked at her, her eyes almost burning into her and she pressed her lips together in the manner that almost made them disappear.

"The deal was I go to school and I tell you where I'm going to be after school," Sophia said. "I'm telling you that I got a job at the shop and that's where I'm going to be after school."

Carol sighed. She supposed there could be worse things that the girl could be doing besides working at a shop after school, but she couldn't help but wonder what kind of environment that was for a fifteen, almost sixteen, year old girl. She didn't know the men well, but they had reputations and they weren't the most shining reputations ever.

Still, she wasn't sure that she wanted to try to tell Sophia that she couldn't do this. She didn't need to add any pressure to rebel on the young girl. Her run away fiasco showed that she clearly wasn't afraid of rebellion in the slightest. The fact that she was agreeing to go to school and then to come back to the house and leave some indication of her whereabouts was a huge deal at the moment. Carol only wished that her preferred whereabouts were a little more positive.

Carol decided, though, that she wasn't going to have the fight with the girl right now. She would go up there the next day, before Sophia got out of school, and she would speak to Mac herself. She'd check out the environment and see exactly what they were dealing with. She could tolerate their poor influence if they were just rough spoken men…but if any of them seemed less than trustworthy she wasn't going to let Sophia put herself in a position to be taken advantage of.

"You're right," Carol said, "and I'm glad that you have kept your end of the bargain. You did a nice job on the front yard, and you did let me know where you were going."

Sophia didn't respond to her for a few moments. She chewed her food and stared at her plate.

"I'll do the backyard this weekend," Sophia said. "It's going to take at least all day Saturday. Have you ever even cut back there before?"

Carol could tell there was a little bite to Sophia's voice that hadn't been there when she'd been recounting how she got her new job.

"Not as often as I should have," Carol said. "Got away from me."

Carol let the conversation die down and as soon as Sophia had finished eating, she declared that she had homework to do and disappeared upstairs to work on whatever it was that the school had given her to finish up.

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Sophia knew that two dollars an hour for after school work was hardly going to make her wealthy by the end of her month's stay, but it would at least be something in her pocket and that was more than she had at the moment.

She'd never had a job before. She'd never been settled in any one place long enough to even consider such an idea. Now, though, she could at least pick up a few bucks that would help her out when she had to hit the road.

Sophia lie on her bed staring up at the ceiling. The woman, Carol, seemed concerned about her job, but Sophia didn't think that the men at the shop were anything to be concerned about. She'd been around just about every kind of man that she could imagine, and these men weren't like some of the ones that she'd met. These men were mouthy, but they weren't the _hands on_ kinds of characters that she'd learned to watch out for when she went to new families. They just liked to gossip, cuss, and tell raunchy jokes, and to tell the truth, she was kind of fond of them already. She thought the three older ones were entertaining, and there was something about Daryl that was interesting, even if he was kind of a stick in the mud.

The fact that Carol seemed so concerned about her was strange to Sophia. The woman had seemed more concerned over dinner about her job sweeping some nasty shop floor than she'd seemed the day before when she was sitting on her bathtub bleeding everywhere and shoving sewing needles through her skin.

Carol was odd, to say the least, and unlike any of the people that Sophia had lived with so far. She was pretty quiet and seemed to keep to herself. She wasn't trying to shove anything down Sophia's throat so far. The rules weren't all that abnormal. Every house Sophia had been in so far had come with rules, and she had to admit that Carol's were less dramatic than many of them she'd been expected to memorize. She wasn't trying to enforce any particular religious beliefs on Sophia, she didn't have any chore charts hanging around, she hadn't implemented any kind of "sticker" reward programs for Sophia's "good behavior"…she hadn't started any of the corny "super parent" projects that the other fosters had going on for Sophia's benefit. Sophia hadn't even seen any of the obnoxious parent books lying around. It was almost like Carol hadn't been practicing for her bouncing baby that ended up being a little too big for the ridiculous things she tried to put in place.

Sophia wasn't sure what to think of the woman at all. She didn't dislike her, not as much as she thought she would. She was more or less indifferent to her at this point, though she was beginning to wonder more about her. Usually by now she'd gotten the delightful "introduction to the family" that she glossed over. Carol hadn't offered her any such business. She wouldn't even know her last name if it wasn't scribbled across the piece of yellow legal paper that Sophia kept folded and tucked in her backpack in case she might need the information.

Everything that Sophia knew about the woman she shared a house with, essentially, could fit on an eight and a half by eleven piece of paper.

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Carol already phoned in to tell the woman she worked with, Jacqui, that she would only be putting in half a day the next day. She didn't really want Sophia to know that she was checking up on the job at the shop. Sophia might see it as her disbelieving that she was working there, when in reality it had a lot more to do with whether or not the men could be trusted to be around the girl.

Carol sat in the chair in the corner of the bedroom with the manila folder open, flipping through the pages again. She didn't know what to think about the teenager that was upstairs right now…sleeping or doing homework or doing whatever it was she did when she was alone.

The manila folder was depressing, and the more that Carol flipped through it, the more depressing she found it. Inside the front cover was a picture of Sophia, much younger…the blurb attached there said she had been almost eleven at the time. The information given was less informative than the jackets of most books that Carol had seen. The first eleven years of the girl's life were reduced to a few sentences.

Her father abandoned her. Her mother died of an overdose.

The information beyond that wasn't informative in the slightest. Sophia's first eleven years were only summed up in the information that Carol received as details about her parents. They weren't even informative details. They were simply, basic pieces of information that told whoever was Sophia's current foster parent how it was that she ended up being without her original parents.

And then there were other pieces of papers. Reports here and there, things that Carol didn't understand, other pictures, details about immunizations, school records. Inside the cover of this folder…her "information packet", Sophia was reduced to data and a few sparse details mostly telling about everything the girl had done that was less than satisfactory, apparently, to the previous families that had been responsible for her.

And there had been more than a few families.

Carol wondered how much about Sophia's life wasn't considered important to put into the packet. Was there anything there that wasn't some detail about a fight at school or difficulty she caused in the home?

Carol wondered if there had been birthday parties and trips to the fair. She wondered what had happened with first bicycles and if Sophia had ever wanted a pony or if she'd been the aquarium. Who had been there when she'd fallen down and scraped her knees? Carol wondered what there was to her life that wasn't in the folder…she wondered if anyone had ever been responsible for all the things that she remembered fondly when she thought back to her own childhood. Or had Sophia always simply been a "troubled" child with a laundry list of strikes?

Carol wondered what was going to happen in a month's time. It would be Sophia's choice, as far as she could see, as to what happened. If things continued as they were she really had no reason to tell the girl she had to go. If Sophia wanted to stay, then Carol thought she should.

She didn't know, though, if she hoped the girl would stay or not. There was something nice about having someone in the house…about knowing that when she got home from work there was someone to make dinner for…someone else to think about. It was different having Sophia there than it had been having Ed there, clearly, and this presence was one that she didn't mind having around her. Still, she couldn't really say that she hoped the girl would decide to stay. She supposed that if Sophia chose to leave she would simply adjust to living alone again, and that would be that. It wasn't as though she felt any real attachment to her ward.

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Daryl had the music all but turned off while he worked, finally alone in the shop. He didn't need the background noise when he was alone. The only reason he left it on at all, really, was because the one time he'd turned the radio off it had caused something to short circuit or some shit like that and Mac had spent half the next day fixing it and cussing the whole damn time. Now Daryl just turned it down until it was barely an annoying hum in the background and let the men turn it back up the next day when they came in.

When he worked on his cars…_his cars_…he didn't need any sound at all. That was his time to get lost in the cars themselves. It was also his time to sort out anything that needed dealing with in his life. That was when he solved problems with Merle, handled financial situations, or made decisions about if and when he'd leave one shop to travel to another and for whatever reason relocate himself and his brother.

Merle could care less either way. He followed Daryl around as though he were just as stuck to the bottom of his feet as his own shadow was. Merle didn't have to be concerned with what was happening in his life so long as he stuck to Daryl. He could just sort of coast right on through and let Daryl handle the details. That's how it had been for a long time. Merle said it was owing to the fact that Daryl had a head for thing like finances and planning. Daryl figured it was more owing to the fact that Merle had a head that was too often under the influence of some form of artificial happiness.

When he wasn't mulling over his own life situations, he preferred to spend his time thinking about the cars he worked on. For most of the people he'd known that had done body work, they'd seen cars merely as hunks of metal to be reshaped, painted, and passed on. That was it.

Daryl preferred, in some odd way, to get to know his cars, and he felt like that might be the secret as to why he was a better body man than most. He liked to imagine how the car got to where it was. At some point it had been some brand spanking new piece of machinery. The nicest car some bastard ever owned even. It had even once smelled like a new car.

So what had taken it from being shiny and factory perfect to wasting away in some junkyard somewhere? What exactly had been the moment when it went from being someone's reliable mode of transportation to being an entirely forgotten scrap of metal doomed one day for the scrapyard?

For some reason, imagining what the cars had once been was a little sad to Daryl. It always had been, ever since he'd seen his first junked classic. It was terrible to him to think how willing people were, in really every walk of life, to just throw things away. Nothing was really sacred to anyone. As soon as the "good" was gone out of something, it just didn't matter anymore.

His musings, though, made it all that more exciting as he worked. With the image in his head of what the car had once been he could work to make it even better. He knew, through every step of the process, that at the end of all the work and all cuts and burns and hours spent working when he probably should have been sleeping, the car was going to be something even more impressive than it had been in the beginning. It was going to be a real head turner. Car connoisseurs everywhere were going to stop and look when they saw it, and people were going to want to own it more than they had even when it was fresh out the factory.

That was the best part about Daryl's job. He felt like he could get attached to the cars. It was safe to get attached to them. He learned about them, sympathized with them, helped them, and at the end of it all he knew he sent them off even better than they'd ever been before.

If they'd had feelings, they would have appreciated it…probably hailed him their hero.

But Daryl wasn't stupid and he wasn't crazy. He knew the cars didn't have feelings, and it was a good damn thing they didn't. If they did they'd have to know how fucked up it was that they'd landed in junkyard condition in the first place. He also knew that if they had feelings he probably wouldn't be able to work with them like he did.

Daryl didn't do feelings. He _had_ feelings, of course…he wasn't made of steel like the cars that he worked on…but he didn't _do_ feelings. Every single time in his pretty much worthless life that he could remember giving a damn about anyone or anything besides his cars, it had always been fucked up for him. Letting yourself give a damn was about the same as setting yourself up for people to fuck you. It was a whole lot easier to just let them fuck themselves and stay away from shit like feelings. No good could come from it any damn way.

That's one reason Daryl had spent most of his life with Merle and nobody but Merle. Merle didn't do feelings either and it was a hell of a lot easier for the brothers to get through life that way. They lived together, but Daryl couldn't really say whether or not they loved each other since they didn't bother to talk about that shit, and that was it. There wasn't anyone else in their lives to really fuck them up.

They had acquaintances, Merle more so than Daryl, with whom they worked and drank. Merle was a womanizer of sorts and believed in the hump 'em and dump 'em lifestyle. Daryl had employed Merle's tactics probably three or four times in his life when he decided to give into some of his natural urges, but the truth was he didn't care for the practice. Whether or not you wanted feelings to get involved, and whether or not he let them, women had a tendency to get more emotional than he liked about those things. He hadn't liked the whole promise to call later moment when he'd known good and well he wasn't going to call.

No, Daryl didn't do feelings. The only ones he was comfortable with were the ones that he shared, just like he was doing now, with the beauties that took shape under his fingertips. Those were the only things that really got into his blood.

Daryl dared a glance at the clock and groaned to himself. Because of the excitement of their little visitor today, everyone had felt the need to stand around gossiping like old ladies at the beauty parlor after work. You'd think none of the assholes had ever been in the same room with a kid before. Their little chit chat session had pretty much shaved two hours off of Daryl's work time, and now he was going to have to wrap it up soon if he was going to get some sleep and not be just as worthless as the others at work the tomorrow morning.

Daryl finished up with the quarter panel he was working on and put it in the backseat of the car for safe keeping until morning. He switched off the lights to the shop and stepped out, locking the door. If he was lucky the assholes would go home earlier the next day and he might actually make some progress on his coupe. As he walked back toward his trailer, he tried to occupy his mind with the problem he still hadn't solved…the very important problem of what color he wanted to paint the car when it was time to show the world the beauty it had become under his careful craftsmanship.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: OK, here's the third and final installment for the night. I had notes for this one so I wanted to go ahead and get it out. **

**Thank you for your encouragement about the last chapter. I guess I'm just not fond, most of the time, of the transition chapters or whatever you might call them where you're basically laying groundwork. Sometimes they're not so bad, but sometimes I just feel like they're terrible.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! We're moving on! **

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Carol pulled up to the shop but as soon as she reached the part where the narrow driveway spread into an open space she wasn't sure where to park her car. There were vehicles in all states of repair parked around and she couldn't, at first glance, put any rhyme or reason to their organization. There was a man washing a car on one of several concrete slabs buried in the dirt directly in front of the shop, but she didn't know him at all and he gave no indication as to where she might need to pull her vehicle to have the conversation that awaited her. She finally just pulled the car in front of one of the open stalls of the shop and sat there a moment.

A small man in filthy jeans and a plaid button down shirt started toward her out of the shop and she realized she was going to have to get out and state her business.

"Ayyy oooh… got a customer!" Wren called, alerting the men inside the shop to stop any inappropriate chatter for the moment. He wandered out to circle around the car as Carol got out of it, trying to asses at a glance what level of repair work was going to be necessary.

"I'm looking for Robert McLurey," Carol said as she got out of the car and closed the door behind her.

"Mac! Hey Mac! Got a customer!" Wren called. Merle echoed the call from inside the shop calling Mac in from the back where he'd gone to into the stockroom. "He'll be out in a minute," Wren said. "What can I do you for?"

Carol frowned a little at the tiny man. She knew of Robert Wren, but her knowledge of the man didn't stretch far beyond gossip that she'd heard here and there. He was supposedly a heavy drink and a rowdy individual who spent a good number of his Saturday night's locked up downtown. Apparently he and his wife were brawlers, at least with each other, and they called the cops on each other on a regular basis. Carol had heard the stories about it more than once, though she wasn't sure how to process exactly the idea of a husband and wife who fought _each other_ with equal ferocity.

"I just need to talk to Mac," Carol said, eyeing Wren.

"What's wrong with your car?" Wren asked. "I can start an estimate for you while you wait."

Carol shook her head.

"There's nothing wrong with the car," she said. "I just need to talk to Mac."

"You got him!" Mac announced, walking through the shop and appearing a few feet in front of her holding some kind of tool that she wouldn't have been able to identify if her life had depended on it. "What's the problem?"

Mac stepped outside the shop and walked past her to the edge of the concrete area they were standing on. He spit in the dirt and kicked sand over top of the tobacco spit with his shoe. Carol tried not to shudder at the habit that she found disgusting. Mac drug his mouth across the shoulder of his shirt to wipe it and regarded her, waiting for her to state her business.

"I'm here about Sophia," Carol said, realizing that she still hadn't lost the attention of Wren who was now leaning against the front fender of her car.

"Beg pardon?" Mac asked.

Carol was confused. She wasn't sure if Mac was hard of hearing or if there was some problem with the fact that Sophia told her she was working her. She hadn't doubted Sophia's honesty about the situation, and she'd known at least these two characters by name.

"Sophia?" Carol repeated. "I wanted to talk to you about her working here."

Daryl was washing one of the cars that they'd finished repairing when the person had pulled up and parked right in front of the shop, blocking one of the stalls. Daryl figured it was a customer and didn't bother to look up from what he was doing. The three nitwits that worked with him were more than capable of getting off their lazy asses and giving an estimate for whatever damage was done to the vehicle.

When he finished rinsing the car, however, and let the hose fall to the ground so he could go for the tire brush, his ears caught enough of the conversation to perk his interest…something not regularly occurring with new customers.

"I don't know what the hell ya talking about ma'am, but we don't know no Sophia," Mac said.

At the name Sophia, Daryl glanced in the direction of the others who were standing in a semi circle around some woman. He felt compelled to sort out the situation since he was the only one present with enough brain cells to be able to do so. He walked toward the cluster.

"Sophia?" He called out. All four people looked at him at once and he absentmindedly bit at his thumb nail in response to the overload of attention. "Ya lookin' for Sophia?" He asked again, looking toward the woman and moving closer in her direction.

The woman nodded. As Daryl got closer he inspected her a little. He figured her to be about his age, which would put her somewhere between her early and mid-thirties. She was wearing jeans that looked like they hung off her with a long sleeve shirt that did the same. Daryl almost laughed to himself thinking that it looked like there was enough room to spare in her clothes that Wren could have worn them with her and neither one of them would have felt crowded for space.

Her hair was an auburn color but showed signs of grey and it was cut with less attention to detail than his was, almost to the point that he felt the need to reach over and smooth it down so that she looked less like she'd rolled out of bed moments before.

He guessed, though, that the woman was probably Sophia's mother…the one she kept insisting she didn't have. She had big blue eyes, and he could easily match those with Sophia's. She also shared her daughter's frame and Daryl imagined that stripped of the oversized clothing she probably had more knees and elbows than she knew what to do with. As Wren had said about Sophia, she had enough joints that she probably got knotted up on herself if she wasn't paying attention.

"Sophia's supposed to be working here," Carol said.

It was Daryl's turn to nod then.

"She ain't here right now," he said. "Don't know what time she gets outta school but if she ain't home ya might just check the highway. Picked her up a couple days ago makin' like a hitchhiker."

Carol looked at him.

"I'm Carol," she said. She offered her hand to him. Daryl hesitated a moment, but took it, shaking it slightly. "You brought Sophia home the other day?" Daryl nodded a little. The woman's face lit up and he automatically worried that he was about to see far more emotion from this woman than he really wanted to see from anybody. "Thank you so much!" She said.

Daryl nodded.

"Don't mention it," he said. He ignored the muffled snickers from Wren and Merle, knowing the assholes were going to have something to say when this woman finally left.

"So she is working here?" Carol asked. She glanced around, wrinkling her brow at the other three men.

"She's workin' here," Daryl said. "Cleanin' up an' s'posed ta be a shop hand. She ain't come home again today?"

Carol shook her head.

"She's still at school," Carol said.

"Excuse me for breakin' up this beautiful family reunion," Mac said, "but what the hell is goin' on here?"

"She's askin' 'bout Sophia, the girl that's workin' here," Daryl said. Mac looked at him. "Wendy," Daryl said.

"Oh!" Mac exclaimed. "She's workin' like a shop hand…what'cha need to know about her? She ain't in no trouble is she?"

"Wendy?" Carol asked.

Daryl scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said. "That's what they took ta callin' her."

Carol had no idea why in the world the men were calling Sophia by the name of Wendy, but she wasn't going to try and delve into the psychology of any of these men. The man that was about her age, Daryl, seemed like the only one that she could have a halfway intelligent conversation with, and at this moment she could do without the audience the other three onlookers were providing. She decided to give her attention to him and try to ignore the others.

"I wanted to…well…I wasn't sure about Sophia working here," Carol said. She glanced at the three men who were smirking at her a little. She stepped closer to Daryl, closing the space between them and leaned in. "Could we talk a moment?" She asked.

"Ya wanna talk ta me?" Daryl asked, his eyes growing wide. Carol nodded. Daryl hesitated a moment and tossed a glance at the other three. Finally he shrugged. "Yeah, whatever…" he said. He started to walk off toward the back of Carol's car where she could speak to him in some relative privacy. He didn't know how to tell her that the three numbskulls behind them were going to be eavesdropping anyway so she might as well just talk in front of them. Daryl lit a cigarette and leaned against the back of the car.

"Is it OK if Sophia works here?" Carol asked him when they'd walked around to the back of the car. She kept nervously glancing at the three men who had actually dispersed and gone back to at least pretending to be doing something productive. Daryl wasn't sure why Sophia's mother would be asking him if it was OK if Sophia worked somewhere, but he shrugged in response.

"What'cha mean? I mean she's got the job, but I don't know if ya want her workin' here. I mean ain't nobody here no kinda creep nor nothin' but she ain't liable ta have the best fuckin' role models since the Disney channel," Daryl responded.

Carol knew better than to expect the nannying skills of Mary Poppins from any of the men that she'd seen today, including Daryl, but she was more concerned about whether or not Sophia would be safe than she was about whether or not she'd hear more lovely language to enrich her already flowery vocabulary. If the girl was determined to work there, and if it would perhaps make her more inclined to stick with their agreement and smooth things over, then Carol could tolerate trying to counteract some of their poor influences, but she couldn't tolerate knowing that anyone had stepped over any physical boundaries with the girl.

"I understand that," Carol said, "but is she safe here?"

Daryl shrugged a little again.

"Long as she stays the fuck away from the equipment she ought notta get hurt," Daryl responded.

Carol shook her head.

"I mean safe from the men? No one would do anything inappropriate?" Carol asked.

Daryl narrowed her eyebrows at her and glanced over his shoulder back toward the show where the three men were pantomiming productivity. He shook his head.

"Ain't nobody gonna fuck with her if that's what'cha worried about," Daryl said.

Carol nodded. She paused and then nodded again before smiling.

"Thank you," she said. "And thank you for bringing her back. Hopefully we've got things…under control now."

Carol started back around like she was getting in the car and Daryl stepped to the side, nodding at the woman. She waved briefly at Wren who was leaning against the stall door and the man waved back.

Daryl watched her as she backed her car up and left.

"What was that all about?" Mac called when she'd pulled down the drive.

"Wantin' ta make sure y'all was just jackasses an' not fuckin' perverts," Daryl said.

He didn't expect the laughter that the statement drew from the other three men, but he wasn't surprised by it either.

"Looks like Derlina done found hisself a girlfriend," Merle drawled, dropping appearances of doing anything he might be paid for. "Y'all boys seen she ain't think lil' brotha's no pervert. Can see a mile away he ain't no threat…got ta have a set ta be one."

Everyone chuckled and Daryl rolled his eyes. He passed by the men and headed back toward the half broken drink machine to see if he coax a Coke out of it. He hoped they'd all forget about the visit soon enough, but they'd all latched onto it like a baby to a teat and they somewhat swarmed around him, pretending they were on some kind of break.

"Ya best be careful hittin' that shit," Mac said. "One look at her an' you can damn well guarantee that soon as she opened her legs bats would be flying out."

Wren disappeared a moment, fumbling in the tool chest that belonged to him and rested against the wall nearest the air compressors. He came back a second later holding a Christmas tree air freshner by the string, pinched between his finger and thumb.

"Here you go, Daryl. I got some to spare and you might need it if you're planning on going down under, boy," Wren said.

Daryl twisted his neck a little against the crick that was forming there and curled his lip at the men who were all howling at the jokes made at the expense of the woman.

"My lil' brotha," Merle drawled. "Got him a girlfriend an' the last damn time her legs was open ya can bet was when Wendy crawled her ass outta there."

"Kid ain't nothing but knees and elbows, though," Mac said. "No worries, Daryl. Probl'y slid out like a damn spaghetti noodle. She's prob'ly damn near still got the cherry because you know whoever the fuck put Wendy in there did it on accident."

Wren howled.

"He was walking by and just kind of fell in…"

Daryl curled his lip and took a swig of the Coke that he was holding in his hands.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growled. "Y'all are some nasty fucks! Damn, leave the poor woman alone. She's up here checkin' up on her fuckin' kid an' I go an' tell her y'all's asses is fine just for ya ta act like a buncha fuckin' animals when she leaves."

Daryl shoved by them and made his way to the work counter, having forgotten the car he was washing, to start cleaning out paint cans from the car that he'd sprayed earlier. It needed another shot of clear and he was more than anxious at the moment to get in the booth and away from the howling baboons around him.

"Ah now, don't be that way Derlina," Merle drawled. "We ain't mean ta be pickin' on ya sweetness. Ya take her out behind her car ta whisper sweet nothin's in her ear?"

Daryl didn't have any affection whatsoever for the woman, so he wasn't sure exactly why it grated on his nerves to hear their ongoing outpouring of slurs and insults, but he didn't care for it. He knew they were just being the dicks that they normally were, but he felt like they were giving the poor woman more hell than any one person deserved in the course of a day at Mac's.

Daryl kept his back to the men, continuing his work with the sprayers. After a few minutes of him not paying them much attention, the laughter started to die down between the three of them, fading out into the occasional chuckle and snort.

"You know who the hell that was, though, don't'cha, Mac?" Wren asked when he'd finally gotten control of himself.

"Hell no I don't know who the hell that was," Mac said. "Daryl's girlfriend is all I know."

Wren chuckled.

"Nah, I'm serious. You know who it was. That was Red McAlister's daughter," Wren said.

"Who?" Merle asked.

Daryl shook his head at his brother's nosy ass. Wren and Mac had both lived in this town since they were born and Daryl figured that to be somewhere around the time the dinosaurs died the fuck out. Wren was younger than Mac, but the only damn reason that Daryl could figure that Mac was still kicking it like he was had to do with the fact that he'd probably drank so damn much he was almost entirely pickled.

"Red McAlister," Mac said, the laughter gone from his voice now. "Dead…been dead a while. Never had but one kid. Reckon that was her."

"Yeah, that was her," Wren said. "Freckle faced, chicken legged little thing. Shoulda known it when I saw Wendy wobbling her ass up here."

"Ya a damn good one ta be talkin' 'bout somebody's chicken legs," Daryl said, turning around and heading toward the back to get the clear that he needed. Wren caught him by the arm.

Wren shook his head at him, only a hint of a smile spread across his face.

"Now don't be like that, Double D," Wren said. "Ain't nobody around here gonna judge you just because you got a taste for chicken."

Daryl shoved Wren backwards to get his hand off his arm. If Mac hadn't been standing there, he might have shoved the little man to the floor, but Mac caught him and Wren responded with a laugh instead of being sore about the incident.

Daryl went to the storage area leaving the gossiping ninnies to talk their shit. He didn't have any interest in what they had to say and he didn't know Red McAlister so he could give half a fuck if it was Sophia's grandfather.

When he passed back through, though, the conversation caught his ear and he paused a minute on his way toward the paint booth.

"Didn't realize they had a kid, though…son of a bitch damn near killed her more than once," Wren said.

Daryl turned around, halted in his movement.

"Who?" He asked, drawing the attention of the other three. "Who damn near killed who?"

Mac spit into the cup he was holding.

"Ya bat's old man damn near killed her," Mac said. "He's doin' somethin' like eight to ten at state."

"Ole Ed was a fine one," Wren said. "One first class son of a bitch…said he use to hit on her like he was trying to win first place in a damn game of Whack-A-Mole." Wren pantomimed the game for the benefit of his audience.

Daryl shuddered. After the award winning parents that he'd been pegged with he couldn't stand to hear about that kind of thing. He knew it crawled up Merle's ass too. The only person they ever forgave for anything akin to beating on his wife was Wren and that was because he didn't so much beat on her as the two of them tangled up about once a week. She tended to give it as good as she got and from what they understood from Mac that was part of what made their sorry union so damn happy. Daryl figured it was something he didn't understand, but for all his bitching it was evident that Wren and Nellie liked each other alright…and apparently part of that liking of each other was the fact that they could go a few rounds, get each other locked up on a regular, and then happily reunite when the free one bailed the other out of jail. They apparently both got a damn kick out of it, and neither one of them had ever really been injured in the conflicts.

Wren's fucked up union aside, though, Daryl couldn't abide the idea of a man tangling up with a woman, especially if that woman wasn't giving it right back. He thought for a moment about the skinny woman in the oversized yard sale outfit. He couldn't see her giving it back to any men, unless he was maybe the stature of Wren. He disliked the thought. Then his thoughts settled, for just a second on Sophia, and he shook his head thinking about the fact that the girl may have very well seen her share of it all.

Daryl didn't say anything else to the three men. They continued talking, but he wasn't interested any longer in what they had to say. He walked off and closed himself in the confined area of the paint booth where the car was waiting, taped up and ready to go.

Daryl pulled on his mask and tried to switch his thoughts over, taking them off the conversation. He didn't give one hot damn about woman that had been up there other than the fact he hated to know that she'd been on the receiving end of some asshole's fists.

She had to be a decent mother, though, despite the fact her kid had run away…otherwise she wouldn't have come up there checking to make sure that her kid wasn't about to become victim to any sick fucks. Daryl thought about Sophia, then. If her Daddy had pounded on her Mama and left her so fucked up that she wanted to deny her parents even, he knew she must have seen a lot of shit in her life. Maybe…if he thought about it…he could see how she might have ended up on the side of that highway with her thumb stuck out.

Daryl started spraying the car. He hoped the jokers outside at least had enough damn sense to stop talking trash about that girl's Mama before she got there. He wasn't sure exactly what made him do it, but he stopped spraying for the moment and shifted his mask to his head. He opened the door and stuck his head out, finding Mac closest to the door of the paint booth.

"Just make sure ya fuckers stop talkin' shit 'fore that girl gets here," Daryl said.

Mac looked at him. Daryl could see that without the other two around to egg him on, Mac was being serious for a moment. He nodded at Daryl. The nod was clearly to assure Daryl that they would indeed be somewhat mindful of what they said. Then a smirk spread across his face as he spit into his cup again, letting Daryl know that the moment had passed.

"No worries, Double D," Mac said. "We won't talk about your girlfriend so your pup can hear it."

Daryl growled his annoyance at Mac and ducked back into the silence of the booth, pulling his mask back into place and turning his attention to the car that was patiently awaiting some of its finishing touches.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Here you go, a little something to keep progressing with our story.**

**Yes, the shop men are vulgar and they are "rough". Having grown up literally my entire life in and around shops like the one depicted, I can tell you that they can be a nasty and rough crowd, but usually it's for entertainment purposes more than any real intended malice. That's why much of their ribbing goes on behind the scenes and around only those they think know them well enough to take things for what they are. **

**I'm thrilled to see that you are still enjoying this story. We've got a long way to go, but I'm excited about it.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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When Sophia got home from school, Carol had been there already, working in the backyard that was supposed to be Sophia's project for the weekend. She had asked Carol what she was doing, and Carol insisted that it was really more of a jungle than a yard and she didn't mind helping to control part of it since she was home early from work and didn't have anything else to do with the afternoon.

Sophia went inside to put her back pack down in the room she called hers and quickly changed her shoes since the shop dust got everywhere, whether she wanted it to or not, and she didn't want to change the color of both pairs of shoes that she owned to the dingy gray.

When Sophia got downstairs, Carol was in the kitchen gulping down glasses of water as she stood by the running tap. Sophia didn't know how long she'd been out there, but judging by what she had accomplished it had either been a while or she'd really put a great deal of effort into what she was doing.

"You keep gulping water like that and you're gonna hurl," Sophia said. She'd done that a few times in her life when she'd been given outside chores and got a little too enthusiastic about them. It felt good when you were doing the chores and you let all your frustration out on them. You almost felt like a different person while you were working. Then, though, when the exhaustion and thirst set in you felt like you were dying and you needed to drink as much as you could as fast as you could. You'd start drinking a little bit, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, chugging the water as fast as it could run down your throat…and it was delightful…right up until you came up for air and your stomach decided it didn't want anything of what you'd just given it. It was a nasty sick.

Carol stopped gulping for the moment, she was panting a little and Sophia assumed it could be the exhaustion of the work coupled with the fact that she probably hadn't been breathing any while she was trying to drink half the water supply of Georgia.

"Are you my mother now?" Carol asked with a chuckle.

Sophia shrugged.

"Fine, barf your guts out," Sophia said. "I don't care. I'm going to the shop."

"Wait," Carol said.

Sophia stopped on her way out the door and backed up, but she didn't turn to look at the woman.

"I just wanted you to know that I went down there," Carol said. "I'm not going to tell you not to work there. I think that the men are fine, other than being perhaps typical men for that kind of location…but if you feel uncomfortable at all or anyone says anything that you don't like, just remember that you don't have to stay there, OK?"

Sophia listened to her, but didn't really know what to respond.

"Fine," she said, finally, and stepped out the door letting it slam shut behind her as she made her way down the drive and toward the road, headed in the direction of the shop.

What had Carol gone down to the shop for anyway? Sophia could do just fine on her own and she didn't need Carol checking up behind her. She had enough sense to figure out whether or not she wanted to work at the shop. She'd been the one that had decided to take the job, after all. It really wasn't any of Carol's business and she may have very well caused Sophia to have to endure more of the ribbing and chuckling from the men that worked there than they'd have come up with on their own.

As for the men at the shop, Sophia didn't mind them. She liked them better, so far, than many of the people she'd met through her escapades with child services. They were assholes and she hadn't seen much work being done besides that that Daryl accomplished, mostly owing to the fact that he kept his distance from the other three, and the little bit that Wren did when he realized the clock was winding down.

The men were mouthy, but they were funny and Sophia liked that none of them had bothered to give her any of the annoying speeches about watching her mouth whenever she was merely expressing herself the way that everybody else did. She didn't believe in this magical age where it was suddenly OK to say what you felt, how you felt it. She didn't think it mattered at all how old you were.

Sophia liked all the men for different reasons. What she liked most about all four of them was that they seemed genuine. There didn't seem to be anyone putting on any shows at the shop, unless it was some sort of performance they were enacting purely to entertain the others. Sophia could appreciate that, above anything else almost, in any of the people that she'd met in her life. She'd seen enough people who pretended to be things they weren't. She couldn't have less interest in people's constructions of themselves if she tried. She liked genuine people, even if they were assholes, because at least they were honest and open assholes.

Of the men, though, she like Daryl the best, though she thought he might be the least fond of her. He didn't tease her like the others did, and she got the feeling that around there harassment was the only way that the men showed any kind of interest at all in each other. If they were mouthing off, it meant that all was well…but Daryl didn't join in too often. Sophia got the feeling, more than anything, the he was the brunt of a good deal of the teasing. They'd spent most of the last afternoon giving her a hard time, but whenever Daryl came out of hiding behind whatever he was working on, the attention had shifted to him.

Daryl seemed older than the other men too, though not in actual age. He just didn't seem to take as much entertainment away from things as the other men did, like he'd outgrown it or something. The day before, just as Sophia had been getting ready to leave and was cleaning out one of the cars that Mac had asked her to clean, for example, Wren had come by tossing a rubber roach in her direction in an attempt to make her freak out.

The joke had been on Wren, though, because Sophia wasn't afraid of roaches, and though she'd jumped a little in reaction to something falling in front of her face, Wren hadn't gotten the chuckle he'd been hoping for.

No, Sophia wasn't concerned at all about the men or being in their presence. Carol didn't need to go butting in and show up at the shop checking behind her. She wasn't a kid and she was capable of making her own judgment on people. It wasn't the people that she chose to be around that worried her or had worried her in her life, it was really more those that she'd been forced to be around that were nightmares for her…and surely no one had checked up on them.

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"Weeeendyyyyy!" Wren called out.

Daryl glanced up from his work. Wren was grinning ear to ear and hanging with one hand inside the shop, supporting himself while most of his body hung outside the stall door.

"Like a fuckin' talkin' doorbell or some shit," Daryl grumbled. He couldn't see what was happening outside from his angle, but he could assume that Wren's announcement meant that Sophia was approaching. He hoped that the men minded their manners and didn't run their mouths about the kid's Ma being up there.

"Looks like ya found us again, Wendy," Mac called out. Daryl heard the scuffling of Sophia's shoes on the dirt covered cement and knew she'd approached without the need to look up. "What is it? Three mailboxes to the left and straight the fuck on 'til morning?" Mac said. Wren chuckled.

"See you assholes still aren't doing anything," Sophia said.

"Don't be like that, Wendy," Wren said. "We got plenty done. Spent the whole morning working so you'd have some shit to do."

"See that car out there?" Mac asked. "All ready for you. Just need to pull it up, wash it, and get that puppy washed."

Daryl glanced up then. He knew the car in question and the annoying asshole who owned it had already called six times in the past day and half to find out when it'd be done. It would have been done sooner except it needed some damn special shit they had to send off for.

"Get that shit outta here quick as ya can," Daryl threw in. "Asshole won't quit callin'. Ya'd think he don't speak English ta understand we'll fuckin' call him when that shit's ready."

Daryl couldn't stand the customers who called incessantly or the ones that "dropped by" the shop on an almost hourly basis to check on progress. The truth was that they could fall behind in productivity on a regular basis, but when they had something they were pressed to get out Daryl could at least get Wren's ass in gear enough to go ahead and push the car on through.

Customers didn't seem to understand, though, that sometimes things just took longer than you planned. If you were going to be a super picky asshole about everything too, for instance, and only wanted brand new parts on your car instead of Daryl fixing what he could and making it look damn near brand new, then it was going to take a little extra time. It wasn't like when they ordered that shit it appeared out of the air.

"Ya heard the man, Wendy, hop to it," Mac said, picking at his teeth a little with the toothpick he held between his finger and thumb.

"I can clean it," Sophia said, "but I can't move it up. You'll have to do that."

"Just pull it up," Mac said. "Ain't gotta be perfectly parked for the vac and hose to reach it."

"I can't drive," Sophia said.

Daryl heard the assholes chuckling.

"Mac just pull the fuckin' car up," Daryl growled. "Shit like this is why we got them fuckers callin' ta check on their shit all the damn time. Girl can't drive yet an' she'll be pulled the fuckin' car through the shop door on accident. Just move the piece a' shit so we can get his ass up here ta get it 'fore closin' time."

"Oh…" Mac said. "Yes ma'am…I'll get right on that ma'am."

Wren chuckled and Daryl heard the crunch and grind of Mac's shoes as he headed out to move the car. He shook his head a little. Daryl finished sanding the piece he was working on and got up cracking his knees as he stood.

He watched for a second, wiping the sweat from his forehead, as Mac got out and started instructing Sophia on the proper technique of washing a car.

Every body man that new a single damn thing about getting a car ready for presentation knew that there was a certain way that you washed a car. Daryl remembered himself the first time he'd been taught, by the old man that ran the first shop he was a hand in, how to do it. He'd washed probably the first twenty cars he'd done after that repeating the damn order like it was some kind of life saving mantra. After that it faded into habit and there simply wasn't any other damn way to wash a car.

Mac, though, Mac could drive you insane with the shit. Daryl had been washing cars for a good bit of his damn life now but he cringed when he had to wash one and Mac was around. Mac seemed to think he was the only one in the shop that knew what the hell he was doing and he wanted to supervise everything, especially washing cars. He'd tell you that you were doing it wrong, even if you were doing exactly what he wanted.

If Sophia survived washing cars with Mac, then the girl was a damn trooper and very much deserved some kind of badge for making it through Asshole 101.

Daryl walked away from their little instructive lesson and made his way to the drink machine to wrestle himself out something cold to drink. He leaned against the work counter and sipped at the soda, somewhat catching bits and pieces of the squabbling that was breaking out between Mac and Sophia.

"Couldn't Wendy fly?" Wren asked suddenly while shuffling through some of the contents of one of the tool chest drawers.

Merle chuckled from his spot working on the engine of a car they had propped up. He surfaced from below the hood an stood there a moment, his forearms resting on the car.

"Don't know what the fuck ya doin' 'sides sippin' on that bottle ya think ya got hid in the office, Wren, but I believe Wendy walked her skinny fuckin' ass over here. She can't drive so she sure as fuck can't fly," Merle said.

"I know that you dumbass," Wren shot back. "I weren't talking about that Wendy. I was talking about her namesake. The bitch that was banging Peter Pan…couldn't she fucking fly or some shit like that?"

"Ehhh…" Merle growled, looking for the moment like he was seriously thinking about what he could remember of the life and times of Peter Pan. "Damn sure could… yeah…bitch could fly."

"Like a bat?" Wren asked, chuckling. Merle laughed in response and Wren started shrieking like he thought a bat sounded. Daryl shook his head. The bat noise had echoed around the shop since Carol had left earlier. It was now their favorite sound to make and Daryl wouldn't have minded it all so much except for it echoed off the concrete walls and gave you a headache after a while.

"Shut up, assholes," Daryl said. "Fuckin' Wendy couldn't fly no damn way. That shit was fuckin' Tinkerbell and she had spread her fuckin' fairy dust or whatever the hell it was for any of 'em ta fly. Weren't like no damn bat…and Wren knock that fuckin' squeakin' off 'fore I knock ya damn teeth down ya throat. Givin' me a headache."

Wren chuckled in response.

"Easy there Double D," Wren said. "Didn't know ya was so damn touchy 'bout'cha girlfriend an' her pets."

Daryl looked at him, narrowing his eyes at the little man. He had never actually had to fight any of them besides Merle. Wren and Mac usually would push him and anyone else right up until their breaking point, but they would back down. Daryl hoped that Wren knew he was tired of the joke. It was time to lay that shit to rest.

"Warnin' ya, Wren," Daryl said.

Wren chuckled again and nodded. He reached back into the drawer that was open and came out with the socket wrench he'd been looking for earlier.

"Alright then," Wren said. He looked toward Merle. "You heard the man, enough is enough. Mind your ps and qs." Wren walked back across the shop toward the car he'd been taking apart for the past hour or so. "Got that car taped up for ya in the booth," he said. "You know, if I didn't know no better, I'd think it bugged ya that we was talkin' about your girlfriend."

"Can it," Daryl said, draining the last of his drink. "I ain't got no girlfriend but ya gon' be awful damn sore at yaself ya let Sophia hear ya talkin' that shit an' ya hurt her feelin's."

Daryl tossed his drink bottle at the trash can and excused himself from the shop. Wren was likely to keep Merle in line for at least a little while. Wren was an asshole, and he loved to give people hell about all kinds of shit, but he was odd in that he didn't like to genuinely hurt anyone's feelings. Daryl figured that he'd be mindful with Sophia and his stupid bat jokes. Daryl surely hadn't heard the last of them, but at least he could escape the screeching until closing time.

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When Sophia got back to the house from the shop she was tired and she was dirty. She'd gotten soaking wet because Mac's stupid ass had made her was the same fucking car six times. She'd figured they were going to wash the paint right off of it before he was satisfied that it was clean and lived up to his expectations. She noticed, though, the whole time she was washing it so that she could learn how to do it like a real "professional" like himself would do it, that Mac didn't do much more besides lean his bony old ass against the fading whitewashed wall of the shop and criticize her.

On top of being wet, she'd had to sweep after that and stirring up the bits of nastiness that littered the shop floor along with all the dust, had resulted in forming a thin layer of gunk that she felt covered every square inch of her. She was pretty sure that there was nothing left visible on her body that wasn't heavily coated in the shop crud.

When she'd walked in the door Carol had been cooking dinner. She'd turned around long enough to lay eyes on Sophia for a fraction of a second and told her that dinner could be held off until she'd had time to take a shower.

From the looks of her, Sophia thought Carol wouldn't exactly suffer from a little soap herself. She was covered in dirt and grass clippings and looked like something that had just crawled out of the woods. Sophia hadn't argued, though, and had slipped directly up the stairs to bathe, probably leaving gray footprints all the way there.

They'd eaten in relative silence and then Carol told Sophia she was going to watch some old ass movie that was coming on television and invited her to sit with her. Sophia hadn't exactly been thrilled by the idea of the movie and her shop time had meant that her homework was still undone in her back pack upstairs so she'd taken a rain check and left Carol with the dishes and her film.

Now Sophia was finished with her homework and she wondered what time it was. She could tell by glancing out her window that it was late since it was pitch black outside, but she didn't have a clock in the room and she didn't own a watch.

Sophia got off her bed and repacked her things in her back pack. She went to her suitcase and unzipped it, digging through and pulling out her doll. She kept the doll hidden in her suitcase at all times except when she was sleeping. She didn't want anyone catching wind of it and giving her hell about the fact that she was almost sixteen and she still slept with a ragdoll.

The doll's name was Maddie, and Sophia didn't know where the doll's name had come from. She'd had it as long as she could remember and honestly she felt stupid to admit that she felt like the cloth thing was her best friend. She'd kept it hidden ever since she'd gone into the system, though. A lot of the other kids had "sleep toys" as the workers called them, but they still teased each other mercilessly about them and sometimes the rougher and meaner ones who had been there the longest would steal them and desecrate them.

Sometime before Sophia learned to keep Maddie hidden, someone had drawn a black eye on her with a magic marker. She'd once had a pretty dress too…Sophia could remember it. It had been red and white checked and had a red ribbon bow on it. But one day the dress was gone and Maddie was naked now except for the red bottoms that were painted on her skin.

She had a tear in her too…where one of her seams was coming undone. Sophia didn't have any way to fix the doll, so she simply woke early ever morning and stuffed back in whatever stuffing had come out before she hid her back in her suitcase underneath her clothes.

Sophia ran her finger along the doll's forehead. The cloth there was soft and smooth and almost worn down from rubbing and kissing. Sophia put Maddie on her bed and decided to slip downstairs for something to drink and some of the peanut butter cookies she knew were down there. She figured that Carol was asleep by now, not being much of a night owl, but she didn't figure the woman would mind her having a snack. Carol was something of a food pusher to say the least, and Sophia figured it was because she barely ate herself and must take some kind of pleasure in watching Sophia eat.

Sophia slipped down the stairs and was surprised to find the electric flicker of the television lighting up the living room. The sound was barely up, but whatever was playing could still be heard. Sophia eased around the banister and saw Carol on the couch, but she quickly realized that the woman was slumped over and very clearly fast asleep.

Sophia walked over, closer to her, to ensure that she was indeed asleep. In the flickering light she thought that it was strange how small Carol looked, curled up on the couch, one arm flung under her head and the other flopping off to the side. Sophia wondered if she'd seen any of the movie at all. She had all the appearance, position wise, of someone who had begun watching something and decided to rest their eyes for a moment, only to fall into complete oblivion.

Her attempts to tackle the jungle that was the backyard had no doubt exhausted her and now she was dead to the world. If it weren't for the sound of her breathing, in fact, Sophia might have just assumed she was dead, period.

Sophia stood there a moment looking at her and wondering if she should wake her up. She didn't know how Carol reacted to being woken up, but if she stayed in that position very long she was probably going to wish she was dead when she finally woke up.

Sophia had a strange feeling wash over her when she looked at her. She wanted to reach out and touch the woman. She wasn't sure why she wanted to touch her, or really what she was going to do if she did, but she kind of just wanted to touch her…about like she'd just done when she'd absentmindedly rubbed her finger across Maddie's forehead.

It was strange for Sophia simply because Sophia didn't care for touching. She didn't like to be touched by others and she didn't like to touch others. It was sort of a rule she had established for herself over the years. She had, in the beginning, been fine with touching, but the older she got the more she disliked it.

There were too many things that went along with touching that she didn't care for. She didn't like hugging either. She especially hated the grabby, huggy people like the cardboard cutout foster parents she'd had that were damn near hug monsters. They'd grab you up, nearly choke the life out of you, and hug you all the damn time. And their hugs were always fake and the falsity behind them made them cold and uncomfortable.

Sophia didn't like touch at all. She almost considered it to be painful. She cringed most of the time when she saw someone who even looked like they had it on their minds. She hated it so much, in fact, that she'd convinced one of her foster families…one of them that had seemed like some kind of hippie couple and looked especially given to touch…that she had some rare skin allergy that made her allergic to all kinds of touch and if she were exposed to it too often she would die from anaphylactic shock.

But at the moment she wanted to touch Carol as she lie sleeping on the couch. It was almost like a morbid curiosity…almost like she wanted to assure herself that the woman she was sharing a house with was real and that she was warm to the touch.

Sophia swallowed a little and reached her hand out, extending her finger just a little. She figured she could get away with it, since Carol seemed to be quite asleep. She touched the hand that was hanging off Carol's body and off the couch as well. She rubbed her finger tip on the soft skin just above her thumb. The skin was soft and Carol's hand was cold. She stirred as Sophia stroked the skin again and Sophia jumped back, her breath catching, not wanting to be caught in the act.

As Carol opened her eyes and started to take in her surroundings and her situation, she sleepily looked at Sophia, almost looking like she didn't recognize her.

"You should go to bed," Sophia said. "It's late now."

Carol blinked at her a second and moaned a little, clearly not awake.

Sophia backed up quickly from being in front of Carol and decided that she no longer wanted anything from the kitchen. She just wanted to go back to her room and to lie down. She didn't say anything else, but as she turned and started toward the steps, she could hear Carol shifting around, popping one joint or another, apparently in an attempt to get up and move to a place that was more comfortable to sleep.

Sophia mounted the steps quickly and stopped in the bathroom. She turned on the sink and filled her mouth twice with the cool tap water, drinking it down.

She stood in the bathroom for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror. Then she held her hand up, looking it. She took her fingertip and traced it gently over the soft skin above her own thumb for a moment before she shook her head and flipped the switch, bathing the room in darkness. She headed back down the hall in the blackness toward her bedroom, wondering if downstairs Carol was crawling into bed at the same time.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: So we're going to have a little bit of a time jump here for the moment. It's not too dramatic, but we're slowly advancing a little in the story. **

**We've had a little progress from Sophia (little is the key word) and a very small amount from Carol. Try not to get too frustrated with our characters. I'm trying to portray the setbacks and progressions that go along with situations like theirs in reality while also advancing the story. **

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. **

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Carol woke up in the same familiar cold sweat that she so often woke up in. She rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It blinked back at her that she was really welcome to call this a Thursday morning or she could call it Wednesday night, depending on how big a stickler she wanted to be to detail. It was just after three. _The witching hour_, Carol thought.

She could call it Wednesday night if she wanted to, but that made the facts more depressing. She wouldn't go back to sleep, and she didn't want to even if she could. The nightmares weren't as frequent now as they once had been, back when she'd been closer to the time when she lived them, but they still came. Now they were just more unexpected and unpredictable, and Carol thought they shook her more now than they used to simply because she didn't have the comfortable warning that they would come nearly every time she closed her eyes.

The realization that she wasn't going to sleep, though, made her decide that she might as well get up. There was no need lying in bed and staring into darkness where she might dwell on things more than if she were up and moving around. She could, at least, make Sophia a nice breakfast this morning instead of offering her toast or the pop tarts that she was so fond of.

Carol pulled herself out of the bed and groaned a little against the fatigue of her muscles and the heaviness of her head. Her body wanted to sleep, but her body and her mind weren't exactly friends and they seldom agreed on what was good for her. She got up and shuffled into the kitchen, fixing coffee and deciding she could camp out, for a while, at the table instead of lying in bed.

Carol felt like, for as long as she could remember, she'd been existing in the most basic meaning of the term. She lived because she kept breathing, and she kept breathing because she really didn't have much choice to do otherwise. It wasn't that she was suicidal or longed to kill herself…that wasn't the case at all. She just didn't really _care_ all that much.

Carol could remember, when she thought back far enough, that once upon a time she'd cared a lot more. She felt like she'd cared about everyone and everything. She could, in her mind's eye, see herself back then. She'd been young and energetic and like most people, when they're young, she felt she had the world by its tail. Everything in life was going to happen her way. It was going to be beautiful.

She was going to have her dream job for one thing. The funny thing was she wasn't even sure back then what that job was going to be, but she knew it was going to be great and she was going to be better at it than anyone else in the world. She'd be damn near awe inspiring.

She was going to marry the man of her dreams, who at that time was the high school quarterback. They'd get married and live some kind of blessed existence. They practically got along twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. In her imagination there was no reason to fight. He was the perfect husband, and she was the perfect wife, and their perfect kids gave them no reason to disagree. Her silly younger self had damn near constructed a movie plot, except it wouldn't even be a movie that anyone would watch because nothing dramatic ever happened in it. It was too perfect, even for television.

Carol laughed a little to herself remembering the way that she'd been sure it would happen. She'd written some kind of paper for her high school English class where they talked about their futures. She remembered writing that paper because the old woman who had taught the class was, so they thought, a jaded old widow whose husband had died only years after they'd been married. Carol remembered, too, thinking that the woman was old and bitter and didn't understand that just because she'd let her life go to shit didn't mean that was the way of the world. She'd turned in her pristine essay that she'd rewritten at least five times so that it achieved almost the same perfection as the image that she projected in it, and she'd been surprised when she got it back to find scrawled across the last page in red ink: _Fairy tales are just that._

The old crone hadn't been wrong, though. Even though Carol thought she was at the time, she knew now that the woman was right. Her life had resembled nothing from those pages except that very last line…the one she didn't even write.

She'd laid it all to rest, though, the same time she let that girl…the one that looked like her and still existed as a faded memory in the back of her mind…die. She wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, and she didn't know the exact date that she had decided it was best to let the girl go peacefully, but she knew that it happened.

She'd married Ed, but that had been the only thing in the essay that had come true. She'd married the man she identified in those pages as the man that would be her prince charming. And what a prince he was too…

And now Ed was gone. He was probably the one thing from her past that she didn't miss at all. At one time she had mourned Ed…or rather she had mourned the man she thought he was, but now that was gone too. She didn't miss him at all and she didn't even miss the image she'd constructed of him out of her blind dreaming.

Now that he was gone, though, it didn't change the fact that somewhere down the line she had laid that girl to rest. She was gone too. Carol just didn't really care enough to try and resurrect her. That had been one of her frustrations with some of the therapists that she'd tried to see once up on a time. They wanted her to resurrect the girl as though anyone that was dead just naturally sprung back to life and the fact that they had died and you had mourned them was of absolutely no importance.

No, that girl was dead. She was lost, buried, and mourned and that was where she'd stay.

Carol fixed her cup of coffee and leaned on the counter. She had intended to camp at the table, but she didn't really need to sit down. If she sat she'd feel more tired than she did while she stood, so it was best to stand, leaning against the counter, and somewhat rock back and forth to keep her body from getting angry with her mind over the fact that she wasn't sleeping, yet again, when it was time to sleep.

_Depression_. It had been an elephant in the room at almost all of her individual therapy session. She'd been offered pills and brochures galore to solve this problem that everyone said she had. She'd filled in bubble tests and stupid questionnaires that repeated time and time over the same thing.

And was she sad? Did she want to talk about it? How did that make her feel? Did she ever have thoughts of harming herself? She had memorized almost the entire list of questions that she was going to be asked every time that she had to see someone different. Every time that Dr. So And So had something to do and Dr. Such and Such or Dr. Whosit would be filling in for them that day.

Carol didn't know if she was depressed or not. She had her own construction in her head of what depression meant, and whether or not it was true, it was she thought it was. She thought that depressed people stayed in bed…camped out on their couches. They didn't eat and they didn't sleep and they didn't socialize with their friends and family.

But Carol got up and went to work everyday. She kept her house relatively clean, though she'd had to take to cleaning the upstairs more since Sophia had arrived, and she kept going. She trudged through life, it was just a mostly uneventful life. It had gotten stuck on the setting of dull and then had gotten hung on repeat, but she didn't hate it entirely. Dull and boring was much nicer than what it had been. She preferred expecting nothing over expecting the life she'd had.

And she ate…she ate too much most of the time. Ed had always scolded her about her weight and he was really right, but no matter what she did it always seemed that there was an extra five pounds here to lose or really more of her in one place or another than there should be.

She didn't socialize with her friends and family, but she didn't have them to socialize with. Her parents were gone and she had no siblings. She supposed that somewhere she had aunts, uncles, cousins, and such, but she didn't know where they were and it had been so long since she'd talked to any of them they'd probably mourned the passing of the girl she used to be and never realized that there was still some part of her that did something akin to living.

_We are the hollow men…_

She remembered a line from a poem that she'd once read. She'd remembered it in therapy one day when she'd been asked about the millionth time how some event or another made her feel. She didn't know if she interpreted the poem the way that Eliot might have meant for it to be interpreted, but she thought she understood the hollow men.

You can only swallow down so much of yourself…like a snake eating its own tail…until you simply feel like there's nothing left.

_We are the hollow men…_

Carol rubbed at her temples. Her eyes were burning and she knew she was going to hate herself by lunch time when all the hours caught up with her and she still had to push through the day. She had to work and then she'd need to make sure that dinner was ready when Sophia got home from her little job.

Now there was Sophia in Carol's life. They'd spent two weeks together, half the time that they'd agreed to, and Carol still didn't know what to do with the teenager. They coexisted more than anything. They lived separate lives that sometimes merged together, mostly for meals, but for the most part they were in their own worlds.

Sophia was, perhaps, another of the hollow men.

Strangely enough, to Carol, it seemed like Sophia had given her the only thing she'd had to care about in some time. Sophia kept her distance, a little like a ghost in the house at times, but Carol knew that she needed something from her, and trying to figure out what she needed from her had been the only real thing she'd put any effort into for a while.

So she did what she knew to do. She made sure that there was food when the girl should eat. She had taken her shopping, against Sophia's wishes, for some clothes and some shoes since the shoes that the girl had were too well worn if she was going to insist on walking as she did, every day, to the shop where she worked doing God only knows what. She engaged the girl in what conversation she could draw out of her, mostly getting shop stories about a cast of characters that she didn't know well and wasn't sure she wanted to know. And she offered for Sophia the same empty lines she'd heard from people along her own journey…if you want to talk, just let me know.

But Sophia seemed to not want to talk any more than Carol had ever wanted to talk.

Carol knew, from what she'd been told, that Sophia was supposed to be a troubled young girl, but Carol wasn't really sure what that was supposed to mean. She assumed it may have been the same kind of thing that had happened with her when it came to the therapists. They'd said she was depressed, and the social workers said that Sophia was troubled. What it really boiled down to, perhaps, was that they didn't answer their questions in the manner that they wanted them answered.

Sophia was a lot of things…she was things that Carol couldn't even explain, but Carol didn't know if she was troubled. She hated school, though Carol hadn't really gotten a concrete answer why. She was snarly and sarcastic at times, but Carol assumed that any teenager could be that, and even more so if you were a teenager who had been followed around by specialists with label makers that spent fractions of time with you and punched out label after label, plastering them to your forehead.

They hadn't spoken, as per their agreement, about whether or not Sophia would stay beyond her month's worth of time. No one from child services had called to say that they'd found a better place for her, and Sophia hadn't mentioned any discontent with the arrangement, but Carol felt somewhat certain that the girl wouldn't stay. She didn't really have anything to offer Sophia beyond the basics. She didn't know what the girl needed or wanted, and neither of them was excellent at communication.

She didn't, though, want the girl to go. She wasn't sure she could admit it to Sophia…she'd barely been able to admit it to herself yet…but she didn't want her to go. Even her silent presence was a presence, and it was one that Carol was slowly growing accustomed to. Her conversation, although mostly circling around the shop crowd and dotted with profanity and sarcasm, was still conversation. It was another voice. The verification that someone else lived there and the verification that, at least in some way, this other person was interacting with Carol. Sophia was another life and she was a life that may only be coexisting with Carol, but she was something that Carol wasn't entirely prepared to lose.

Carol wouldn't keep the girl there, though, if she didn't want to stay, and she wouldn't guilt her into feeling like she had to stay if she was ready to move on to bigger and better things. She certainly wouldn't tell her that, as of late, the nightmares that she'd had were taking a different turn. Now, instead of just Ed…instead of all the images of her past stuck on some kind of repeat over and over in her head…the nightmares were starting to include Sophia. Carol had no degree in dream interpretation, but she was clever enough to know that when her nightmares began to include the loss of the girl…usually in some tragic manner…it was her subconscious letting her know that she didn't want her to go.

Carol finally abandoned her coffee cup and walked around, turning the lights on downstairs. She stepped over to her purse and dug around. She popped a mint into her mouth after picking off a piece of blue pocket fuzz that had landed on it and then she pulled the little book out of her bag. She turned it over in her hand a moment before putting it down on the table next to where she would put Sophia's plate in a little while.

She really didn't have much to offer the girl, and when Sophia left Carol figured that she wouldn't take much of her with her, but she wanted her to take something with her. Every sixteen year old in the history of the world wanted to know how to drive. Even Carol could remember that it had felt like if she could drive at sixteen, she could own the world.

So Carol had picked up the manual for Sophia and she'd called the DMV the day before. She intended to surprise the girl. She was going to take her, as soon as she was ready, to get her driving permit…and then, before it was time for Sophia to move on, she'd teach her to drive, or at least get her started. Wherever she went from here she could perfect her skills, but for the time being she could at least get the basics.

Carol went about fixing breakfast. Slowly there was light rising in the sky outside. She always felt better once the sun started to come up. There was something about when the world was asleep…when even the sun didn't feel like shining…that brought out the darkest of your demons. Carol always felt the worst when the sun wasn't out, but as it rose she felt a few of those demons running for the shadows, waiting until night to come back again. She could hear the echoes of Ed's voice, the ones that played around and around in her mind when she was lone, growing softer too.

The sun was coming up and Sophia would be up soon. Carol stepped into the kitchen and started breakfast. She hoped that the girl would be excited when she found out she was going to teach her to drive. She hoped it was at least something.

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Sophia flung her backpack at the floor near the door and dropped the shoes she was carrying in her hand in front of her to put on while she waited for Carol to finish breakfast and sit down with her for the rushed meal they shared before they headed of in their direction.

Before she put the shoes on, though, Sophia craned around trying to catch a glimpse of Carol's face. Unfortunately it looked like she'd worried it would. As soon as she'd smelled the bacon this morning she'd suspected that she would find Carol like this. For as much as she enjoyed the large and almost royal breakfasts of mornings like this, she'd trade them in for the toast any day.

In the two weeks that she'd been there, Sophia hadn't learned much about Carol. Carol seemed pretty private and Sophia got the feeling that there was something behind that privacy. She certainly didn't want to pry much. After all, she knew how annoying it could be when people wanted to go poking their fingers into your wounds only to ask you stupidly if it hurt a few seconds later.

Sophia knew that Carol had some kinds of wounds…something, somewhere, had gone wrong. At first Sophia had interpreted it all to be her fault. She was the entire reason that Carol looked like she did on the mornings of the big breakfasts. Something she'd done was the reason that Carol's eyes were dark and she barely smiled unless it was the forced smile that looked more like the facial expression you saw from people who were bored with their jobs.

As time had gone on, though, Sophia hadn't been able to find any pattern in the things that happened in the house and the big breakfasts. They came when they came, and so she'd figured that they had little to do with her.

The most she could do on these mornings was eat the breakfast and try to eat all of it, even if she felt like she'd have bacon and eggs dripping out of her nose for the rest of the day because she was so full. Carol seemed to like it when she ate…she seemed a little excited by it…and so Sophia choked down more than she even wanted.

Sophia plopped down at the table and pulled the first of her shoes on, tying the laces into a knot so she wouldn't have to retie the stupid things just as she got on the bus. She glanced toward the table and in her spot was a book. She picked it up and read the title, but she wasn't sure what to think of it.

"What's this?" She asked.

Carol turned a little toward her, the pan in her left hand and a pair of tongs in her right, frozen a second in her efforts to put together the breakfast that Sophia was going to stuff herself on.

"It's a driving manual," Carol responded, her voice sounding a little lighter than Sophia expected. "I thought that you could read it, maybe this weekend? I thought that next week I could take you to get your permit and we could start teaching you to drive."

Sophia looked at the book. She wanted to know how to drive…after all, who didn't? She'd never really thought, though, that she'd actually learn until she was released from the prison of the system. She'd never really own anything until then, so she'd never have a car, and she certainly knew that none of her foster parents were ever going to let her touch their cars. They seemed terrified to let her operate the toaster, less likely their vehicle.

"Are you serious?" She asked, tying her other shoe.

Carol brought over a plate for her then, loaded down with food. Sophia looked at it and sighed a little. Every time she made up her mind to eat all the food on the plate, she made it…by the grace of slightly oversized pants…she made it. However, it seemed like every time she met her goal she was presented, at the next royal breakfast, with a fuller plate.

"If you don't want to learn you don't have to," Carol said. Sophia looked at her. Her voice had dropped the octave that gave it the familiar haunted sound of mornings like this. Sophia shook her head.

"No, I want to," she said. "What am I going to drive, though?" She asked.

Carol smiled at her then and Sophia wondered if she might be able to at least leave behind some of the eggs and still not make the morning worse for the woman.

"My car, Sophia, what did you think you'd drive?" Carol asked. She came back a moment later and sat down with her breakfast.

"I can't drive, though," Sophia said.

Carol laughed.

"Sophia, no one can drive before they learn to drive…that's sort of the idea of learning how to do it," Carol said. "It'll be fine."

Sophia was a little worried now. Carol wasn't someone who seemed crazy about her car, not like some of the people that she'd met, but she wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the possibility of destroying something of Carol's, even on accident.

"What if I hit something?" Sophia asked.

Carol shrugged a little.

"Then you hit something. We're going to try to go for not hitting things, though, OK?" Carol asked.

Sophia shoveled in her breakfast, but she was worried. The month was drawing closer to a close and she was hoping that Carol was interested in renewing the contract, so to speak. She was trying to mind herself as much as possible so that the impression she left was the best that she could. Messing up on something as big as driving a car could look a lot worse than getting home late from the shop or having to bring Carol yet another detention slip to sign because she'd said a little more out loud than she'd meant to in class.

"Don't look so worried," Carol said. "When I was learning to drive I plowed down our mailbox three times. I also ran a stop sign, giving my father a heart attack, and I can actually remember him telling me at one point that any side of the road I wanted to drive on was fine, so long as I actually chose just one side and stuck to it for a while."

Sophia laughed. She couldn't really imagine Carol at sixteen…it seemed so young for her. She knew that Carol was thirty three, and Sophia didn't really know how most thirty three year olds were, but she felt like Carol was a lot older than her original take on the age had been. It was hard to think that she was sixteen once and learning how to drive.

"So your dad taught you?" Sophia asked.

Carol nodded.

"My mom was a pretty nervous person," Carol said. "She was always jumpy…but my dad was really very laid back. It just made more sense for him to handle something like driving."

"And are you jumpy or laid back?" Sophia asked.

Carol smiled.

"When it comes to teaching you to drive? I don't know." She paused and bit the piece of bacon she was holding in her hand. "I guess we'll have to find out, but I'll do my best to channel my father. Now you better hurry up and eat or you'll miss your bus."

Sophia nodded a little and turned her attention to eating as much of the food as she could. Since she'd first seen her face this morning Carol was already looking lighter and Sophia wondered if it was the breakfast, the driving, or maybe even the mention of her father that had done it. She didn't feel, though, the same pressure to scarf down all the food that she had before.

Finally, when Sophia was done, she checked her watch. She'd make it to the bus stop with a few minutes to spare if she left now. She got up, exchanging the normal morning niceties with Carol and picked up her backpack off the floor.

"Don't forget your book," Carol said.

Sophia nodded and grabbed the manual off the table. It was kind of exciting just holding the thing in her hands. She'd read it all and Monday they could go after school and she could get her permit. She'd tell Mac that Monday she wouldn't be in to work. Before long she'd know how to drive, and then she could move the cars around the shop on her own…and that would be one less thing for Mac and Wren to rib her about.

Sophia slammed the door behind her and bounded down the steps. She could go ahead and start reading the book. The better she learned everything that was in there, the better she'd be when she started driving, and the less likely it would be that she'd hit the mailbox or end up all over the road. She was excited about learning to drive, but she still wanted to avoid doing anything that might leave a lasting, and poor, impression on Carol. Two weeks wasn't long enough to forget something like that.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: OK, here's another little piece as we continue on. We've got a long way to go in this story, though, so you're welcome to sit back and get comfortable. LOL**

**Y'all are really amazing. Almost 100 reviews for this story already and I'm floored, honestly. I thank you for all of them. It means a lot to me to know you're reading and know you care about the story and the struggles that our characters have to work through.**

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think!**

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It was Sunday morning and Sophia was curled up in her bed eating pop tarts and drinking the juice she'd brought up from the kitchen while she reread the driving manual for the third time. Carol was asleep and Sophia didn't want to wake her up any earlier than she had to. The woman didn't seem to sleep much, so when she did sleep Sophia thought it was best to let her alone. They hadn't had any real discussion about whether or not she was allowed to eat in her little room, but she hoped that Carol wouldn't mind. She thought if she stayed downstairs she'd wake her up accidentally and it was more comfortable to read in the bed anyway than it was at the table.

Sophia was trying to memorize everything in the driving manual. She wanted to go after school the next day and take the test and she had no intention of failing it. She wasn't very good with tests, even though she did OK in most of her subjects at school, so she figured a little extra study time couldn't hurt.

When Sophia accidentally tipped some of the juice into the bed she was out of it as though it had been hot lava pouring down on her lap instead of just juice. She put the cup on the nightstand and ripped the sheets off quickly. These were the kinds of things that got you in serious trouble with people.

"Shit!" Sophia spat. She looked around the room, her heart pounding a little as she tried to figure out what to do.

She could change the sheets, hide these until after school. She could put them under the bed or hide them in the closet or whatever. She could wash them while Carol was still at work and then tuck them away for if she needed them again. That was all she had to do. If she never told Carol that she'd spilled the juice in the bed the woman didn't have to know. It was simple. As long as she got them washed while Carol wasn't around, she could get away with this.

Sophia balled up the sheets and shoved them under the bed, as far back and close to the wall as she could. She walked around the bed a few minutes and then got on her hands and knees, crawling around it and looking just under the edge. No quick inspection, were Carol doing quick inspections, would reveal the placement of the sheets. Now she just needed to put new ones on the bed to hold her over until she could wash those and this didn't need to be something that they ever had to speak about.

Sophia quickly went to work going through the closets in the room. She couldn't find any sheets and she couldn't very well wake Carol up and tell her that she needed a new set. That would mean that she'd have to explain that she'd spilled the juice. She'd also have to admit that she had the wet sheets balled up under the bed.

Sophia opened the bedroom door and started looking around. She wished she'd paid attention the night she'd come and Carol had changed the sheets. Then she'd know where to look. She was pretty sure that Carol went in the other room, though, so she thought that there must be a linen closet in there.

As quietly as she could, afraid that her walking on the floor might be enough to wake Carol downstairs, Sophia eased down the hall and opened the door to the other room, praying that I didn't squeak. She stepped into the room and switched on the light to go for the sheets. She wasn't quite expecting what she found.

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Daryl was out in the shop working with the all the doors closed except for the stall door through which he had pulled his coupe. Merle was at home sleeping off what was probably an epic hangover and Daryl was glad to be out of the little tin can that they lived in. The place smelled like mildew and he was pretty sure that skunk had a run in with something underneath it in the past few days because it reeked of skunk piss. He was sure that was going to really go well as a side order to Merle's hangover when he finally woke up.

Daryl ran his fingers over the place that he was sanding, feeling how smooth the metal was becoming. He may have to patch part of this that was rusting out, but he was going to try to give it the best care he could first. He hated having to use much filler or anything of the like on the cars when it could be avoided.

He glanced up when he heard the crunch and grind of dirt and gravel just at the door of the stall. He wasn't expecting company. It was Sunday which meant that Mac would be playing good husband with his wife. If Wren was lucky he wasn't in jail today and neither was his old lady, but he certainly wasn't going to come by the shop and put in hours on a day he wasn't getting paid for.

Daryl didn't expect to see Sophia standing there.

"Fuck ya doin' here?" Daryl growled.

Sophia didn't say anything. She just walked into the shop, crossing around him, and sat down on top of one of the toolboxes that was nearby. Daryl glanced at the girl from where he was sitting. Something was off about her. Sophia was usually pretty wound up and energetic. He couldn't say she was exactly cheerful or fucking bottled sunshine, but she didn't normally look like she did right now.

"I asked ya what the fuck ya doin' here," Daryl repeated, softening his tone a little.

Sophia rested her bony elbows on her knobby knees and put her chin in her hands, looking at him from the position. She looked almost like a scarecrow that had toppled over. She didn't respond, though.

"Ya Ma know ya here?" Daryl asked.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but if the girl was just going to sit quietly on a toolbox then he guessed he didn't give much of a damn if she was there or not.

"Told you," Sophia said, somewhat softly, "don't got parents."

Daryl regarded the girl. The last thing he wanted to do was to get stuck babysitting. Wren got a kick out of the girl and so did Mac and he could bet that either of them might want to spend their whole Sunday just engaging in conversation with her and trading quips back and forth, but Daryl wasn't really all that interested in it. He had other things that he wanted to do and entertaining the freckle faced teen wasn't one of them.

Still, there was something in the girl's demeanor that he didn't care for, and for whatever reason he wished it would go away just as much as he wished she would travel back down the road that she'd come down.

"That fuckin' woman ya live with then. Whatever the hell she is ta ya," Daryl said. "She know where the fuck ya at?"

"I left a note," Sophia said. "And she isn't anything to me. I don't even really know her."

Daryl huffed a little and scooted around on the piece of cardboard he was sitting on to continue sanding. At least if he was going to be stuck spending the day with the kid hanging over his shoulder he was going to finish what the hell he'd come here for.

"I reckon ya know her all right. Woman come up here checkin' up on ya an' just fuckin' yesterday ya was walkin' 'round crowin' 'bout how she was teachin' ya ta drive sos ya could drive circles 'round Wren down at the strip," Daryl said. He wiped his nose on his sleeve to scratch an itch but didn't look at the girl.

"Her name is Carol McAlister. Her address is 1114 Willow Road. She works at the library. She drinks coffee every day. She doesn't own a single thing that fucking fits, her hair is pathetic, she can sew her own damn skin up with a needle and thread, I'm pretty sure she's fucking psychotic, and she doesn't want my ass around," Sophia said. "There you go. Now you know her just as good as I do. I left a note. She doesn't give a damn where I am."

Daryl could hear some spit behind Sophia's words. He was a little surprised since the girl didn't lose her temper too often, and that was saying a lot for someone who had dealt with the assholes that worked at Mac's.

Daryl sighed. Some damn way or another he'd become some kind of babysitter and he wasn't any good at this shit. He didn't like kids and he didn't like women, and the last damn thing he liked in the world was something like this. Some kind of woman child…a fucking tornado twisted combo of the shit that he didn't want or need in his life. And this twister was sitting her ass on a toolbox like she expected him to enter into some kind of deep ass heart to heart with her.

"Reckon she gives some kinda damn," Daryl said. "Else she wouldn'ta come her ass up here. Don't too many people wander up ta fuckin' Mac's for the ambiance, princess."

"People will do all kinds of shit if they think it'll benefit them in the end, Daryl," Sophia said.

Daryl chuckled. Now the little wise ass was going to school him on people? How much could her scrawny ass even fucking know about people?

"Been watchin' a lot a' Sesame Street, huh?" Daryl asked. Sophia scoffed behind him.

"Asshole," Sophia said. Daryl chuckled. She was quiet for a few minutes and Daryl turned his attention fully to the car. He'd gotten absorbed in it and almost forgot she was there until he heard the scuffle of her feet again and then heard her abusing the fucked up drink machine. It finally dispensed for her the partially piss warm beverage of her choosing and Sophia came back, walking just around him, examining the body of the car. "Ain't it a bitch," she said, "when you figure out that people aren't what the hell you think they are? Like you just want to know that some person's just going to be what the hell they pretend to be. No strings attached."

Daryl chuckled a little and continued sanding.

"Don't put'cha fuckin' hand in the windows," Daryl said. "Shit's sharp an' I ain't sewin' ya ass up. Ya'd prob'ly bleed ta death 'fore ya could get back ta ya house for ya woman that'cha don't know ta sew ya ass up too."

Sophia stopped running her fingertips over the car body and contented herself, apparently, with simply walking back and forth, her drink in her hand.

"An' if ya just learnin' people ain't always what they seem like they are then hang on ta ya britches, kid. Ain't gon' get no damn better. That's one fuckin' reason I don't deal with 'em," Daryl said.

"I'm not just learning it," Sophia said. She hesitated a few moments and Daryl felt like she was going to say more. He wanted to tell her that she was making him nervous with all her twitching about, but she didn't seem to half listen to him any damn way. "I guess I'm just relearning it…" Sophia said.

"Yeah well…" Daryl said.

Sophia disappeared again and he heard her a few minutes later apparently sorting socket heads into compartments. Wren had a habit of standing a good distance from the tool chests and throwing shit at them just because he apparently thought he was some kind of fucking basketball star or something and Daryl had learned that Sophia liked to spend her free time in the shop sorting out the mess Wren made of things. Of course Daryl wasn't complaining. Her organization made work a lot easier than Wren's disasters.

Daryl knew good and well that the girl had something on her mind. The problem was that he didn't really want to know what was on her mind and she was waiting on him to ask. She wasn't going to spill it without some prompting.

He decided, though, that he had two choices in the matter. He could either do the pussy thing and ask her what the hell was going on…in which case she might actually leave and he could do something…or he could ignore her and she'd probably spend the whole day there haunting him like some kind of damn ghost.

Daryl sighed.

"The fuck happened?" He asked.

"What?" Sophia asked, stilling the clinking noise of the metal pieces dropping together like marbles.

"The fuck happened?" Daryl repeated. "I know some fuckin' shit's happened so why don't'cha fuckin' say what it is?"

Sophia came over and plopped somewhat dramatically down on the toolbox she'd been sitting on earlier. Daryl glanced at her and saw her running her finger around and around inside her shoe. He would have figured she had something in there, but since she made no move to take the shoe off, he decided it must just be some kind of nervous habit.

"I just got to thinking," Sophia started, "that Carol might be different than other people."

"The woman ya livin' with that ya say ya don't know nothin' 'bout?" Daryl asked, searching for clarification. If he was supposed to be playing some kind of head doctor to the girl he might as well have his facts straight.

"Yeah," Sophia said.

"Different how? Ya done said ya reckon she's psychotic," Daryl said.

Sophia huffed.

"It's just that people always want the same things out of life," Sophia said. "Everyone wants the same damn thing…"

Daryl chuckled.

"Ya mean like a place ta live an' food?" Daryl asked. "Or ya mean like money an' shit?"

"I mean babies," Sophia said.

Daryl chuckled.

"That's some woman shit right there then, not some people shit. I wouldn't want none a' the lil' fuckers. They pretty damn nasty an' they ain't no damn way ta turn 'em off once they get goin'," Daryl said.

Daryl slid around on his piece of cardboard, dropping the sandpaper that was almost spend. He dusted his hands on his jeans and dug a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, lighting it and looking at Sophia.

"They're not so bad," Sophia said. "I mean they're not terrible…but they're just…I don't know. I don't like them and everybody wants them."

"Listen, Sophia," Daryl said. "Why don't'cha just spit ya shit out? Ya 'bout as fuckin' confusin' right this second as Merle when he comes home after a night at the bar. What the hell's got'cha panties twisted?"

Sophia looked at him a minute. She assumed the position she had earlier of the slumped over scarecrow.

"What kinda parents did you have?" She asked.

Daryl was struck. He didn't like talking about his parents with anyone. He didn't even like talking about his parents with Merle and they'd known each other pretty well.

"Do it fuckin' matter?" Daryl asked.

Sophia dropped one of her hands and went back to tracing around and around the top of her shoe.

"I don't really remember mine too good," Sophia said. "But what I do remember I didn't like. I was supposed to get new ones, though…you know? That was the deal. I was getting new ones."

"So?" Daryl asked.

"So…" Sophia said, shrugging her shoulders. "So it's pretty damn hard to get new ones when all they want are babies…and all they see you as is some kind of ticket. Like trading in a car. Drive the piece of shit until something better comes on the lot."

Daryl took a drag off his cigarette, examining it in his hands. He had a pretty good feeling, though he didn't really want to admit it, that he knew what Sophia was trying to get at. He wasn't sure what had happened exactly, but maybe she was feeling a little more like the car he was sanding and a little less like the showpiece it would be.

"That woman wantin' a baby?" He asked.

Sophia shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," Sophia said. "I guess she can have what the hell she wants…I'm not going to be around to see it anyway."

Daryl narrowed his eyebrows.

"Ain't thinkin' on runnin' again, is ya?" Daryl asked.

Sophia shook her head.

"No, I don't have to run. Time's up. I got my ticket out of jail," Sophia said.

Daryl frowned.

"What the hell ya barkin' 'bout now?" Daryl asked.

"I'm old enough…all grown up," Sophia said. "If you make it to a certain age, and no one claims you, you get to go."

Daryl shook his head a little. He didn't know much about this shit and he only got bits and pieces from Sophia here and there about her situation, but he had a pretty good clue that she was some kind of orphan or a ward of the state. She weren't no legal aged kid neither.

"Ya ain't fuckin' growed up," Daryl said. "Ya ain't even growed inta ya damn knees an' elbows yet. Don't'cha go runnin' again. Keep ya ass where ya are. Talk ta the woman instead a' sittin' ya ass in the dirt down here an' whinin' ta me. I don't know what the fuck is goin' on, but she ain't come up here lookin' like someone didn't give no damn an' was throwin' ya ass out on the street."

Sophia stood up abruptly, almost like she'd been bitten by something. Daryl looked around but didn't seen anything so he assumed she was just jumpy.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm grown up…got out early for good behavior," Sophia said. "Soon as I finish my time I just get to fly right on out of here."

Daryl wrinkled his forehead again. Sophia was wound up, but she looked different to him right this minute, even different than she had when she'd come through the shop doors earlier. She almost had a smile on her face, but Daryl got the odd sensation it wasn't a genuine smile. He didn't know what she was up to, but he worried she might be up to something. He also worried that it might be some kind of misunderstanding or some shit she had going on in her head.

"Listen, Sophia," Daryl said. "I don't really know what'cha on about, but if'n it's got ta do with that Carol McAlister woman then she's the best damn person for ya ta talk to. I ain't nobody ya need ta be lookin' at for shit."

Sophia smiled then, a more genuine smile.

"It's OK, Daryl…" Sophia said. "There's nothing wrong. I'm just killing some time, you know? Like you are. That's all."

Sophia started walking toward the shop door. Her speed was normal and there was the typical pep in her step with which she normally pounded across the concrete after school.

"Sophia!" Daryl called. Sophia turned around, looking over her shoulder. "Don't'cha go doin' nothin' stupid."

Sophia smiled again.

"I'm not, Daryl," Sophia said.

"Ya goin' home?" Daryl asked.

"Third mailbox to the left and straight on 'til morning," Sophia called, disappearing down the driveway.

Daryl got up and walked to the stall door to look out. Sophia was walking with her normal pace down the driveway to the shop and Daryl lit a cigarette and watched her. She didn't have her shit with her so he doubted she was going to run…at least not now, but he had a gnawing feeling that everything wasn't right and that she might try to "fly away" soon.

Daryl watched as the girl turned on the road and started off in the direction of where she lived. He chewed at his cuticle a moment and then crossed quickly through the shop heading for the phone book.

Maybe he could cut Wendy off before she headed out for Never Never Land.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: And here's a little more to our story. I may try to get some more out later.**

**Our characters are all slowly getting to know one another. I purposefully didn't want this one to have too fast of a progression. Things will start picking up from here in pace with probably some time progressions here and there, but I didn't want to dive into anything since that isn't the nature of what I'm attempting to show here. **

**As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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Carol wasn't sure what was going on. She'd gotten an unexpected phone call from Daryl saying that Sophia, hopefully, was headed home and that she was wired about something but he didn't really know what. All he could really tell her was that she was guilty.

Carol paced around the kitchen trying to figure out what she might be guilty of. She'd woken up and Sophia was gone. There was a note on the fridge with just the word "SHOP" scrawled on it, but she hadn't really thought anything about it. Sophia seemed drawn to that shop like a fish to water, so Carol didn't think it was surprising that the girl was there. Sure, it was a Sunday, and she didn't normally go on Sundays, but that still wasn't some kind of red flag.

And now Carol was waiting for her sunny living companion. Carol stepped outside and looked around, waiting to see Sophia appear. She knew about how long it took her to get there from the shop and she was starting to grow nervous. She was giving her no more than five more minutes or so and she was getting in her car and drive the area. The girl couldn't have gone too far if she'd decided to run away again.

Carol stepped back inside and started looking for exactly where she had tossed her car keys the last time she had come in the house. She'd just closed her hand around them when Sophia slung the door open and came inside. It took Carol less than a fraction of a second to see the anger radiating off the girl. Anger was something Carol could almost smell.

There Sophia was, putting off anger like a scent, and it was apparently all directed at Carol. Carol approached the girl, pretty much preparing herself for anything. She didn't know how the teenager was going to react, but she'd seen at least a spark of something in her that told her the girl might be prone to violence if given the chance.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked, trying to keep her voice as calming as she could.

Sophia glared at her and started toward the staircase. Carol followed quickly after her.

"Don't walk away from me!" Carol said. "I asked you what's wrong!"

Sophia stomped up the first three steps before turning back and holding the cold glare on Carol for a second. Carol could see that the girl had clearly spent her entire trip home from the shop stewing in whatever it was that had her upset.

Sophia didn't respond, she simply turned and stomped the rest of the way up the stairs. Carol stood at the bottom, her hand resting on the banister, not sure of what to do.

"Sophia!" She called up. "If you're mad, the least you can do is tell me what I've done," Carol said.

There was no response at all from the second story. It was as though, for a moment, Sophia had simply evaporated or something upon reaching the upper level of the house. Just like ghost that she often was in the house, except now she was an angry spirit.

Carol passed back into the kitchen and tried to think about what would be the correct approach for this. Daryl had seemed concerned that Sophia would try to run away. Carol appreciated that concern because it was one that she turned over and over in her head at least a dozen times a day. Carol could keep the girl there, at least. She could limit her coming and going. She could take some extra time at work if she needed to in order to make sure the girl didn't take the bus to and from school and didn't have time to escape there. She could pick her up from the shop after work, drop her off there after school, and trust the men at the shop to keep her from leaving. She hated, though, the thought of essentially holding the girl prisoner.

Carol sat at the table, her head in her hands and traced and retraced her steps. The night before the girl had been excited, more excited than Sophia had been since she got there. She'd been reciting facts from the driving manual like she was holding a poetry recital over dinner. She was thrilled with the thought that they were going to get her permit on Monday…Carol had promised they'd start driving some on Monday. The girl hadn't shown any signs of being mad about a thing before Carol had gone to bed, and now she was awake and the girl was looking at her like she wished she'd cut her throat while she was sleeping.

Carol didn't have too long to think about it, though, before Sophia stomped back down the stairs, her cloud of rage following behind her and filling the room even before she fully entered it. She spoke as she stormed toward Carol, catching Carol somewhat off guard.

"You want to talk about it?" Sophia screamed. "You want to know what's wrong with me? You're a _liar_ and I _hate_ you! How long were you going to keep me here? Racking up your fucking brownie points with the system?"

Carol looked at the girl as she stormed toward her. Sophia flung something in her direction and Carol instinctively moved to dodge it, the item barely brushing her arm before it clattered to the kitchen floor behind her. Sophia stood in front of her, her face red and burning hot, her hands balled up into fists at her side. Carol turned around, easing out of the chair, and went after the item for assistance in unraveling the mystery. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand.

It was a broken arm off the baby mobile upstairs. She recognized it immediately. She stood there for a moment, not even bothering to fully straighten up from stooping down to pick it up, and she slowly started to realize what it was that was disturbing the girl. The mobile apparently triggered demons for the both of them, but they were different demons.

Carol straightened up, finally, the piece in her hand and turned toward the raging teen.

"I think you got the wrong idea," Carol said, softly. She could feel her own feelings bubbling up inside at the false accusation…at the fact that Sophia was standing there filled with rage over something she knew not one thing about…but she wanted to keep her cool.

"You know what?" Sophia snapped. "You're the worst kind about this shit. At least most of the others don't beat any bones about it. They don't try so hard to fuck with people's heads. Let you know right up fucking front that they're really just holding out…but _you_…"

Sophia didn't finish her sentence. Carol saw her tense even more and work her fists and Carol knew the girl was considering lashing out at her. She knew that stance and she knew that expression well. She was no stranger to anger that was about to explode out of someone. And as usual she was being convicted of a crime she hadn't committed.

Something boiled in Carol at the thought. She was tired of doing time for crimes she didn't commit. When Sophia started to turn as though she was going to storm back upstairs, Carol yelled at her. The yell surprised both of them. Carol was surprised because there was something in her voice that she hadn't heard in a long time. It was a genuine feeling. It must have surprised Sophia too, because she froze in place.

"Sit down! Now!" Carol yelled. Sophia turned around and Carol pointed at the table.

"I don't have anything…" Sophia started.

"I said sit down!" Carol screamed back at her.

Now it was Sophia's turn to look at Carol as though she were trying to judge what she might do or not do. Sophia made her way to the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. The rage that was boiling out of her seemed lessened and Carol wondered if it was the pure shock of the moment that had robbed her of her venom.

Carol put the piece of the mobile on the table in front of Sophia.

"Wait here," Carol said, her own voice calming.

"I don't…" Sophia started.

"Wait here!" Carol snapped.

Sophia put her forearms on the table and stared straight ahead, her eyes focused on the piece of plastic. Carol huffed and went into her bedroom. She got on her hands and knees and drug the box out from under the bed. It was a cardboard box full of things that she told herself she was taking to the attic but had never made it there. It was mostly because they were things that, for some strange reason, she felt drawn to have near her from time to time. Often at night when she couldn't sleep she'd get the odd sensation that some of the things in the box she needed to look at…she needed to touch them. She knew that if she put the box in the attic she'd still feel compelled to go after them and then she'd get even less sleep than she currently survived off of.

Carol didn't really need to even look in the box anymore. She knew exactly where everything in there was and her fingertips knew things by instinct. She pulled the book out that she was looking for, the green and yellow journal. On the front of it was a happy, smiling teddy bear holding blocks in its lap that spelled out "BABY". She shoved the box back under the bed and found her feet.

She had always loved to write in journals. She had tons of them. Since she could write, almost, she'd been jotting down her feelings. The good and the bad. She kept it up until not too long after she'd married Ed. Once the beatings had started she had kept journals for a bit, but she got tired of writing down what had happened. Hearing from herself the excuses for him, the convictions, what she learned about herself from him. Writing it all down was even more painful than keeping it inside. So she had given up journaling.

Until she'd found out she was pregnant. She had written down every feeling and experience she had since she'd realized that the little life was even there. She didn't know what her life would be like, what its life would be like, but she wanted it to know that she wanted it and she loved it, so she wrote to it, every day. The book was censored, of course, Carol hadn't put anything in the little book about Ed not wanting the baby…she hadn't put anything in there about when she'd thought he was changing his mind because when he beat her he didn't throw her down and he didn't punch or kick her in the stomach. She'd interpreted that as maybe him showing his acceptance. Maybe that was all you could expect from him as far as kindness and mercy went. But she left all that out because her baby didn't need to know any of that and she was going to keep it from the child as long as she could. Maybe Ed would change when it was born.

Carol took the book and went back to find Sophia still sitting at the table, staring straight ahead, obviously brooding. Carol walked over, opening the book she took out the two items tucked in the cover and dropped the book on the table. Sophia didn't look at her, but she did reach out and right the book on the table as though she were going to open it.

"It's not always about you, Sophia," Carol said. "Everything in the world is not always about you, and this certainly isn't."

She tossed the two items in Sophia's direction, on top of the unopened book and she went around, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Sophia picked them up and looked at them. One was the only ultrasound picture that Carol had. She was due for another not three weeks after she'd lost the child, but needless to say she'd never made it to that appointment. The little life that she was supposed to be protecting…the one that she alone was responsible for…had already ended. She'd been in charge of one life in her life, and she hadn't even protected it for six months.

The other was a photograph that was taken at some kind of gathering. Carol couldn't remember who took the picture. She'd been there with Ed, but he'd been in another room and whoever had snapped the picture had asked her to pose. She'd smoothed down the front of the shirt she was wearing, proudly revealing the sad excuse for a belly that she had at the time. She'd just looked fatter than she was then…something Ed hated…but for her it had been something she was proud of. She couldn't even remember how she'd ended up with the picture, but she'd kept it. There was so little proof that the little thing had ever existed that she'd felt like the picture was one of the few items that even marked that the thing had something of a pitiful life.

Carol let her eyes drift up from the items in Sophia's hands and back to Sophia's face. The girl was looking hard at the picture.

"What is this?" Sophia asked softly, her eyes coming up to meet Carol's. Carol took a deep breath.

"The nursery wasn't for you, Sophia," Carol said. "It wasn't for anyone in the system…not really. I put that nursery together for my baby…_mine_…" She leaned over and tapped her finger on the edge of the ultrasound picture.

Sophia was quiet for a minute, looking back and forth between the two pictures she held in her hand. She pulled the one of Carol up closer to her face.

"You look different," Sophia said.

Carol shrugged.

"I've gotten older," Carol said. "That tends to happen with time."

Sophia shook her head and looked back at Carol. Carol could see that the anger that was there was gone. It was replaced with something, but she wasn't entirely sure what to call the emotion.

"It's not that," Sophia said. "You don't look old…you know."

Carol swallowed but didn't say anything. She did look old, and Sophia was trying to be nice. She knew she looked old…she didn't even need the mirrors to tell her that one the one she kept in the bathroom reminded her every time she caught a glimpse of her appearance.

"You looked happy," Sophia said.

Carol nodded a little.

"I was…" she said. She had been happy. Even with Ed around…even with the nightmare of her own life…she'd been happy. It had been the happiest she'd been since she'd married him and found out what the rest of her life was going to look like.

"What happened?" Sophia asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

Carol shook her head.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Wasn't supposed to be…so it wasn't."

"Did it die?" Sophia asked.

Carol nodded her head.

"Yeah," she said. "It was a boy."

Sophia looked back at the pictures.

"What was his name? Do you have any pictures of him?" Sophia asked.

Carol shook his head and tried to smile at the girl who looked like she'd just been presented with the most mind boggling puzzle ever.

"Didn't have a name," Carol said. "There aren't any pictures. I miscarried…not too long after that picture was taken."

"But you kept his room?" Sophia asked, crinkling up her face.

Carol shrugged. She could feel it getting difficult to breathe and the last thing she really wanted right now were old feelings boiling out. She didn't want to cry for the child that she'd cried for a thousand times before. She wanted to be done with that, and she certainly didn't want to do it in front of Sophia.

Carol nodded, not really trusting herself for the moment to speak.

"I'm sorry…" Sophia said. Carol felt tears prickling at her eyes then and she nodded again. She got up, turning around quickly and taking a few deep breaths to push it all back. She turned back around forcing herself to smile the best she could at the girl and hoping that her smile came out as an actual smile and less like a grimace.

"It's OK," Carol said. "You didn't know…"

Carol knew she couldn't continue the conversation at the moment. She quickly swiped at her eyes, feeling one or two of the hot tears trying to escape. She took another breath.

"I'm…uh…I'm going to lie down for a few minutes, OK?" Carol said. Sophia just looked at her, not having moved at all from her position. "Don't go anywhere…I'll make us something to eat in a bit…"

"It's OK," Sophia said.

Carol nodded her head a little and started back toward her bedroom. She wanted to get inside and close the door. Once she got control of herself she'd be fine. She just needed to get the wave of feeling out of the way and then she'd be able to go back in there…she could put her things away and make lunch, and maybe Sophia wouldn't feel like she needed to run away. Maybe she'd understand that the baby was just a ghost, and nothing to feel threatened by. Maybe Carol would know, once she'd gotten control of herself, exactly what Sophia needed her to say so she wouldn't be so angry with her…but she wasn't going to be able to say anything to the girl until she'd gotten some control.

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When Carol had closed herself in her room, Sophia wasn't sure what to do. She was sorry now for losing her temper at Carol. She'd never seen Carol look quite like she had and it bothered her a little.

She hadn't ever really thought of the possibility that Carol could have once had a baby…or could have been expecting one. She knew that a lot of the foster parents she had in her life had their own stories of losing babies.

They were stories they often told right out, almost like a segway into the fact that you were temporary and that what they really wanted was some little replacement for the child that they had lost. Something that was going to take its place and make it like it hadn't died.

Sophia had only heard the very briefest mention of Carol's husband before, letting her know that she'd been married, but she didn't know what had happened to the man. Now Sophia wondered if he'd flown the coop when she got pregnant…or maybe he hadn't been able to handle when the kid died.

Sophia looked at the picture in her hand. The one where Carol was standing, awkwardly turned somewhat to the side, her hand scooped up under what was a clearly forming baby belly. She was smiling at whoever was taking the picture, one of those smiles where someone's so happy that it looks like they can't even hold it back. The same look Sophia had seen on the faces of the fosters who won the lottery and got their babies.

It was strange to see Carol look happy too. Sophia hardly saw any expression from her besides the occasional smile, never so genuine as in the picture, and the tired, dim expression of the mornings when she made the big breakfasts. Sophia thought that Carol looked pretty in the picture…very pretty…and almost like an entirely different person.

Sophia got up from the table. She didn't know how long Carol would lie down for or if she was allowed to take the book and the pictures, but she hoped that Carol wouldn't mind. She tucked the pictures inside the book and held it one hand. She picked up the piece of the mobile in the other. She mounted the steps and went to her room, dragging the cover back over the mattress, and sitting down on top of it. She'd never found the sheets she'd been looking for and she supposed she'd have to go after them again later. She could clean up the mess she'd made in the nursery and hope that Carol didn't see it either.

She felt bad now for destroying her mobile, and for the few other things she'd thrown around. She'd been angry and now she felt like she'd acted like a child, even trying to tear the throat out of a bear. It wasn't the first nursery she'd left her mark on, but it was the first one she felt bad about.

Sophia opened the book and moved the pictures out of the way. The pages were written in the same curly handwriting as Carol's name and address were on the piece of yellow legal pad that Sophia kept on the bedside table, and the book was written, as she flipped through the filled pages, in the form of a daily letter to a baby that had never read them and would never read them.

Sophia rested the book on her pillow and settled down, beginning to read the pages. At first it was difficult for her to hear Carol's voice in her head as she read. The woman who was writing the letters sounded so different than the woman that was downstairs. Still, she kept reading, trying to remember that it was the woman in the picture…the smiling and happy woman…who had filled the pages that abruptly stopped somewhere near the middle of the little pastel colored book.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Because there was such an overwhelming response to the last chapter, I decided to go ahead and work on getting a little more out for you all. I'm so very happy that you're enjoying the story. I'm really enjoying it myself and it makes it better to know that you're all digging it too.**

**So here you go. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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Carol was making dinner and when she heard the stairs creaking and knew that Sophia was coming down. When she'd finally come back in the kitchen she saw that the table was cleaned of evidence from the earlier discussion. She didn't mind if Sophia wanted to read the book. There wasn't much in there really…just the stupid ramblings of someone still delusional about reality.

Sophia came into the kitchen and Carol glanced at her from where she was standing in front of the stove. She felt sorry for the girl. Sophia looked uncomfortable and like she was trying very hard to come up with something to say.

"Dinner will be ready soon," Carol said. "It's not too much."

"It's fine," Sophia said softly. Carol glanced at her again. Sophia's eyes were dancing around and Carol suddenly felt like she was on exhibit at the zoo. Sophia turned after a few minutes and Carol heard her slide her chair out at the table. Carol turned her attention back to dinner until it was ready. She served up a plate of food for Sophia and walked to the table, setting the plate in front of the girl.

"Can you fix us something to drink? While I get a plate?" Carol asked.

Sophia nodded slightly and Carol noticed she'd brought the book back down and put it on the edge of the table farthest from where they were sitting. Carol turned around and went to get her plate while Sophia got cups out and fixed them drinks.

When they'd settled down at the table they started to eat and Carol felt like the silence was deafening. It was different than any of the other silences that they'd had before. She felt like this silence wasn't just the silence of two people who had nothing to say to each other or perhaps no desire to talk. Instead it was the silence of someone who had something to say but didn't want to say it or didn't know how. Carol decided to try to change the subject.

"So are you ready for the test tomorrow?" She asked, spearing a piece of broccoli and watching as Sophia chewed her chicken. Sophia's eyes darted up at her.

"We're still going?" Sophia asked.

Carol nodded.

"Of course we're still going," she said. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I didn't know if after today…" Sophia started.

Carol smiled a little at the girl.

"Sophia, the world didn't stop turning when I lost my baby, and it's not going to stop turning just because you found out about it. We're going to get your permit tomorrow," Carol said.

Sophia didn't say anything. She just picked at her food for a bit.

"I read your book," Sophia said after a moment. Carol nodded a little. She'd suspected as much already. "You didn't write anything in there about what happened…"

Carol glanced up. She hadn't written anything in there about what happened during any of the pregnancy, not with Ed. She wondered if Sophia somehow had gathered something.

"What happened?" Sophia asked. "How did you lose it?"

Carol shook her head and turned her attention back to her food.

"Same way any woman loses a baby, honey. It's there and then it's not. Don't worry about it," Carol said. "It's not exactly the kind of thing you want to write journal entries about."

"Did your husband leave? When you lost the baby?" Sophia asked.

Carol shook her head. She hadn't exactly expected Sophia to become Little Miss Curiosity. They'd sort have this silent pact so far that they just weren't going to talk about their lives. Sophia seemed to be forgetting the pact at the moment.

"He left after that," Carol said.

"Why did he leave?" Sophia asked.

Carol looked at her and Sophia was looking back, her eyes locked on her like she was trying to read more of the answers than she was getting.

"Why did you get so mad when you saw the nursery?" Carol asked.

Sophia didn't break eye contact with her, and that hadn't been entirely what she was expecting.

"Why did he leave?" Sophia repeated.

"Why did you get so upset about the nursery?" Carol asked. Sophia looked at her like she was growing frustrated. "If you want to play this game, I'm all for playing," Carol said. "You show me your cards and I'll show you mine. I'm a few questions up on you. Why did you get so upset?"

Sophia looked at her plate for a moment and Carol figured the girl wasn't going to answer her. Clearly Sophia wanted information, but she didn't want it bad enough to peel the top off her own can of worms.

"Every house I've been to worth stayin' at," Sophia said. "They all wanted babies. Always had everything all ready for them. Got me instead, so they let me hang out until they could get their baby."

Carol looked up at Sophia and the girl leaned forward a little.

"Why did he leave?" Sophia repeated.

Carol nodded her head.

"He got relocated…to prison," Carol said.

"What for?" Sophia asked.

Carol shook her head. "My turn first," she said. "What's the longest you ever stayed with a family besides your birth parents?"

Sophia set her jaw. She clearly didn't like the idea of giving up anything, because Carol could have found the answer to that if she spent enough time with her folder and a calculator. She was willing to start small, though, and if Sophia stayed around long enough she was bound to hear about her past somewhere. She might as well use it as a bargaining chip to talk to the girl for a bit.

Sophia shrugged.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe a year? What did he go to prison for?"

Carol sighed.

"Domestic violence," Carol said. "When's your sixteenth birthday?"

Sophia narrowed her eyes at Carol.

"You're going to waste your question on that? I know they told you that shit," Sophia said.

Carol shrugged and smiled.

"I don't care what they told me, I'm asking you. I'm a lot older than you are, Sophia…you could ask me questions for days," Carol said. She wasn't going to dive into the meat of things with the girl. Sophia was likely going there with her, and that was fine, but she wasn't going to do it right back. She had a little more experience with what it felt like to be asked these kinds of questions than she suspected Sophia might.

"October ninth," Sophia said, raising her eyebrows a little when she answered. "What did he do to you? Is he what happened to the baby?"

Carol shook her head.

"Nope…two questions," Carol said. She sat there for a moment. This was the first spark she'd really seen out of Sophia beyond her shop talk and the anger of the morning. It was the first glimpse of interest she'd really shown about anything when it came to Carol or life there. Carol wondered how far it went. "Tell you what…" Carol said, "I'll answer those two questions if you agree to stay another month with no running away."

Sophia narrowed her eyes, her dinner forgotten.

"Why do you want me to stay?" Sophia asked.

Carol shook her head and sucked her teeth at the girl. "That's three questions, and not the deal. Deal is two questions for the agreement."

"Fine," Sophia said. "I'll stay another month. I won't run away."

Carol smiled a little at her.

"The answer about the baby is yes," Carol said. "As for what he did…that night? I don't remember. Not exactly. Broke my jaw, cracked my cheek bone…odds and ends stuff elsewhere. I think the head trauma is what got him prison time."

Sophia looked at her now. She was simply staring at her and nothing more. Carol didn't see the same pity in her eyes that she was used to seeing in the eyes of people around town who knew her and who knew about Ed. There was something there that was different that was going on with Sophia.

"Eat your dinner," Carol said finally. "Before it gets cold."

She felt like this wasn't the last time they'd play this game. She was already coming up with things she wanted to know about the girl. The trick, though, was figuring out how to get the information she wanted without making Sophia go through anything that she didn't need to relive in any vivid detail. Carol had no idea what had happened to Sophia in her life, but she knew that there was a world of possibility that could lead a teenager to getting the royal title of "troubled" and she didn't want to stomp on the girl's feelings in any way.

Carol finished a little more of her dinner, not really feeling all that hungry. She looked back at Sophia who was eating, but her eyes were still locked on Carol.

Carol smiled at Sophia.

"You don't have to look at me that way, OK?" Carol said finally.

"I'm sorry," Sophia said.

"Nothing to be sorry about, everything's OK here," Carol said. She got up and took her plate back into the kitchen. She started putting away what was left so that the leftovers could serve as some kind of after school snack for Sophia during the upcoming week. She often missed the girl between when Sophia left for the shop after school and when she got home from work on regular days. "I'm putting this in the fridge," Carol said. "You can eat it after school…I guess on Tuesday. It should be good then."

Sophia didn't respond, but Carol knew that she heard her.

When everything was put away, Sophia brought her plate to the sink and put it in on top of Carol's. Carol walked over to get it and throw the bones out.

"Sophia," she started.

"What?" Sophia asked.

"What made you go in the nursery?" Carol asked. She'd been wondering what it was that had driven the girl to even open the door in the first place. She really didn't mind and she wasn't angry about it, but she was curious as to what it might have been since Sophia hadn't felt the need to go in there before.

"I was looking for sheets," Sophia said.

Carol raised her eyebrows.

"Something wrong with yours?" She asked. She looked at Sophia and immediately the girl looked unsettled. "Sophia, what's wrong?" Carol asked.

"I know I shouldn't have had it up there," Sophia said, "but I took juice and some pop tarts up to my room this morning while you were sleeping."

Carol was starting to worry more from the look on Sophia's face than from the words that she was saying. Her tone of voice and her overall appearance made it look like she was about to reveal to Carol that while she was eating breakfast she climbed out of the window and stabbed somebody or something and now they were wrapped up in her old sheets upstairs.

Carol tried not to let her facial expression reflect the impression that Sophia's face was giving off about the gravity of the situation.

"What happened, Sophia?" Carol asked.

"Well," Sophia said, "I spilled juice in the bed…so I was going to change the sheets and wash them before you knew about it."

Carol almost laughed. The look on the girl's face was like something from a horror movie and didn't go at all with the theoretically terrible situation of spilled juice.

"Sophia, it's OK that you spilled juice," Carol said, trying not to laugh and also trying to express her sincerity with her voice. Sophia looked at her a little odd through the grimace she was wearing. "Where are the sheets? I can put them on to wash. There are some more in the hall closet down here. I'll get you some."

"They're under the bed…" Sophia said.

Carol turned around quickly to start rinsing the plate in her hand. She wanted her back to Sophia in case the absurdity of the situation started to register on her face against her will. Obviously this was a serious situation to Sophia, and Carol could see that, but it didn't make it any less difficult for her to remember the gravity behind hit.

"Can you bring them to me?" Carol asked, keeping her back to Sophia.

Sophia didn't respond, but Carol heard her walk off. She tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. Carol wondered if somewhere down the line the girl had lived with someone who would have overreacted about something as simple as some dirty sheets or some spilled juice.

In a way it horrified Carol to think that she might have. That would have been the kind of thing that would have earned her, at the very least, a busted lip from Ed. He couldn't stand those kinds of things and Carol was always far too clumsy for her own good in Ed's opinion. He'd done more damage to things punishing her for the damage she'd done than she could even begin to say.

Carol felt herself grow a little angry at the thought that someone had taught Sophia to be so fearful over trivial little things that really didn't matter at all in the world.

When Sophia came back down with the sheets, Carol was putting the plates in the drying rack. She pointed toward the laundry room.

"Just drop them in there," she said. "I'll get them."

She waited on Sophia to come back out and she walked by the table, picking up the baby book and tucking it under her arm to return to the box.

"Why don't you go get a shower? I'll put the sheets on your bed," Carol said.

"I'm really sorry," Sophia said.

Carol smiled.

"Sophia, if spilled juice is the worst thing that happens while you're here, we can both be surprised. I didn't tell you about it, but the other morning when I was making breakfast, I dropped two eggs on the floor," Carol said. "It just happens. It's nothing to be upset about. Except…" she paused. Sophia looked at her a little panicked.

"What?" Sophia asked. Carol smiled and reached out, touching the girl's shoulder. She noticed Sophia flinched away a little so she dropped her hand.

"Just next time…don't ball the sheets up under your bed, OK? We don't need ants and things," Carol said.

Sophia looked relieved and nodded. Carol smiled.

"Go take a shower. I'll get some sheets on your bed. Then we'll have a late dessert," Carol said.

Sophia nodded and started slowly toward the steps. Carol thought the girl looked almost as tired as she felt. The day hadn't really been a physically demanding day, but it had been an emotionally draining day for her and she could imagine it had been stressful for Sophia as well. Carol stepped into her bedroom and tossed the book on the bed to put away later. She made her way to the closet and got the sheets out.

When Carol got upstairs to put the sheets on the bed, she could hear the water running in the shower. She went to Sophia's room and quickly put the fresh sheets on the bed. At least the girl would probably sleep well tonight. Carol always felt like she slept better when there were clean sheets on the bed. She turned and picked up the sticky juice up off the table by the bed. It had dried, and she'd have to remember to bring a rag up there later and get the sticky sugar residue off the wood.

She glanced over the contents of the little table and picked up a balled up napkin and Pop Tart wrapper to take down as she went. Her eyes fell, for a second, on the picture that had been in the book. Sophia had stuck it on the nightstand between a few other items she'd been collecting there.

Carol gathered up the trash and turned around, slipping downstairs to take the apple pie out the freezer and stick in the oven to warm by the time Sophia was out of the shower.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: OK, it's a little late here and I have an earlier than usual day tomorrow. I did want to get another little installment out to our story here. **

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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Carol had denied Sophia's request to drive home from the DMV. If it was her license that she was holding in her hand the whole way home like a trophy instead of just her driving permit, she might have considered it, but she didn't think Sophia was ready on her first time out to just go roaring down the road. And Carol was also quite sure that her nerves weren't ready for it.

They'd gotten home and had pizza for dinner. Carol had barely eaten a slice of hers before Sophia had inhaled three pieces, declaring that Carol was eating slowly on purpose because she'd told her that they'd have a short lesson this evening if it wasn't dark when she finished. Carol finally abandoned the hope of eating and decided that maybe a driving lesson would be better on a partially empty stomach anyway.

Sophia didn't look like she could wait much longer. Carol thought the girl might explode if she didn't get to at least pull the car out the driveway and maybe circle the block.

The initial lesson, of course, included the basics of making sure that Sophia adjusted her mirrors, seat belts were buckled, etc. Sophia switched the car on and Carol quickly reached over and turned the volume all the way down on the radio where it had blaring, thanks to Sophia, on the ride back from getting her permit.

Prayer had begun immediately. Carol didn't consider herself a highly religious individual, but right now she figured if she was buckling herself into a car and leaving everything to the mercy of an over excited fifteen year old, she was going to need the help of every divine being that was out there and willing to listen to her pleas.

Sophia surprised her though. The girl backed down the driveway with relative ease. Carol had figured the fate of the mailbox was probably sealed, but Sophia glided right past it without a problem. She turned the wheel and backed the car out into the road. Carol looked over her shoulder, positive that Sophia hadn't checked for any oncoming traffic, and was relieved to see that the road was bare.

"Sophia, you've always got to look before you pull out or back out," Carol said. "You need to check for other cars."

Carol tried to control her voice. She didn't want it to sound as shaky as she felt about the whole situation. Sophia, still backing down the road, apologized for not looking. Carol, wondering how long they were going to continue the slightly fishtailing backward trek they were on, finally opened her mouth again.

"You can hit the brakes, Sophia, we can go forward now," she offered.

She wasn't prepared for Sophia to not so much press the brakes as to stomp them. The seatbelts tightened and the car slammed to a halt immediately. For a moment Carol tried to steady herself. She glanced over at Sophia who was still looking backwards over her shoulder, a little panic, perhaps, in her eyes over the abrupt stopping of the car.

"That's good," Carol said. "A little softer next time. You don't have to stomp the brake, you can just ease your foot down it."

Sophia looked at her, her blue eyes wide. She nodded.

"Now you can put the car in drive," Carol said, directing her eyes toward the shifter. Sophia inhaled and shifted the car into drive. "Good, now let's just go forward. We'll drive to the stop sign at the end of the road," she said. She figured if they cut the block once they could avoid a good deal of traffic and it should be enough to constitute one day's worth of lessons.

Sophia stomped on the gas with the same ferocity that she hit the break and the car shot forward. She scared herself apparently as much as she scared the life out of Carol and she slammed on the brake again, slinging them into a halt in the middle of the road that left Carol feeling like her legs were shaking a bit. Carol didn't trust her voice at all at the moment and she didn't want to move her hands for fear that they'd be shaking and reflect the thousands of doubts she had right now over whether or not she had any business whatsoever deciding that she could teach a teenager to drive.

"Sophia…we're…uh…" she cleared her throat, noticing that her own voice sounded strained to her, "we're just…you just need to tap them a little. The brakes and the gas. The car will respond with just a little bit of pressure…"

Sophia swallowed hard enough that it was audible to Carol and Carol noticed she had a death grip on the steering wheel now that left her knuckles white.

"OK," Sophia said. She nodded and swallowed again. She took her foot off the break and this time hit the gas with less ferocity. It was still enough that the car jumped forward, but not like they were attempting to win some kind of drag racing medal.

"Good girl," Carol said.

Now Sophia seemed to have developed a fear of the gas pedal because they were moving along at a speed where a turtle with a good head start might have passed them. Carol debated about whether or not she should suggest that Sophia speed up. On the one hand, they couldn't very well continue at this speed or they'd never make it around the block before Sophia had to leave for school then next day. On the other hand, Carol was calming a bit because her mind knew that really nothing even relatively dangerous could happen if they were barely moving.

"Speed up just a little bit, Sophia," Carol said. "Remember, gently push the gas."

Sophia pumped the gas a little and the car lurched forward. She took her foot off immediately and they resumed the speed that was best thought of as idle.

"OK, again with the gas, but once you've pushed it down just a little bit, hold it there. We can get up to at least thirty," Carol said.

Finally, Sophia seemed to find the right amount of pressure to keep the car more or less travelling at a consistent speed toward their destination. Their road, thank goodness, was somewhat outside of the beaten path for the town and they didn't encounter any vehicles. It was a good thing, especially, since Carol could see that Sophia was going to have the same problem she'd had with trying to keep the car on one side of the road or another.

As the stop sign came into view, Carol pointed it out. As soon as she pointed it out, though, Sophia immediately stomped on the brakes, causing them to squeal and leaving the car more than a few feet from the stop sign.

"It's OK," Carol said. "Next time just…you want to get closer to the sign and remember what I said, ease your foot down on the brake. Just like with the gas."

Carol knew that if Sophia tried to get the car rolling again they were likely to simply go flying through the sign, and although nothing was coming out here, she didn't want to start them off on that foot.

"Just pick your foot up and let it sort of idle forward," Carol said. Sophia obeyed and they rode the rest of the stretch to the stop sign at the snail's pace they'd established earlier. Sophia stopped the car more smoothly, though, once they reached the sign. They sat there for a second.

Carol noticed Sophia's death grip on the steering wheel and she wondered if the girl was breathing at all. Carol, herself, was breathing a little faster than she felt was necessary, but her breathing was trying to keep up with her pounding heart.

"Just relax, Sophia," Carol said. "You're doing great. We're going to take the short way home tonight, OK? Tomorrow after dinner we'll see about going the long way."

Sophia nodded, struggling to swallow and Carol felt sorry for her. Her mouth was obviously dry and Carol could remember the terrified feeling she'd had the first time she'd been behind the wheel in her daddy's old truck and realized that driving wasn't as easy as it looked when someone who had been doing it a while was maneuvering a vehicle around.

"Look both ways," Carol said. Sophia leaned up a little like she might need to hang out of the windshield to see. "Anything coming?"

"No," Sophia said, her voice no more confident than it had been.

"OK, put your right blinker on," Carol said. Sophia fiddled with the switches and finally found it. Carol would work on blinkers later. She had a feeling that gas and brake were enough for tonight's lesson. "Alright, pull on out and turn right," she said, thankful that there were no cars anywhere to be seen.

Carol was prepared for the rough turn that Sophia made and she reached her hand over to push the steering wheel and help the girl straighten up so that they didn't go flying into the ditch. Once the car was straightened out, though, Sophia was already doing a little better with the gas than she had.

By the time they had made their circle, and were coming back up toward their house, Sophia was doing a lot better with the controlling of the brakes and gas, though she still had a tendency to be a little heavier footed than she needed to be. Turning was a near fatal weakness, though, and Carol knew they were going to have to work on that. Sophia was going to need more than a little practice handling the whole idea of gas, turn, straighten up all working together.

Carol also thought she could use a drink maybe, or a soak in a tub with some Epson salt. The constant snatch and release of the seatbelt during the drive had her chest aching. She imagined that Sophia probably felt the strain of it too, and from the looks on the girl's face she was exhausted. The lap around that they'd done, although short, had been enough stress to drain all the extra energy that Sophia had been harboring throughout the day.

The driveway in sight, Carol sighed a little to herself. They were home free.

"OK," Carol said. "Just ease on up there and turn into the driveway. Right turn signal."

Sophia fumbled a second with the turn signals, the car crawling forward, until she found the right one. Carol smiled at the small triumph. Then she made a move as though she were about to pull in the drive way.

Things might have gone well, but Sophia seemed to panic or get too excited one, by the approach to the house. She slammed her foot down on the gas with the almost forgotten punch of before and apparently panicked about missing the driveway because she turned the wheel sharp as she gunned it.

There was really nothing that Carol could do in the situation. She'd seen what was going to happen in at exactly the spit second that it did happen. They slammed, full force, into the drainage ditch just a few feet to the left of the driveway.

Carol sat there a minute, panting. They'd hit nose down in the ditch, but apparently it hadn't been enough to deploy the airbags. She could feel that she was fine, aside from the new jolt that wasn't going to make her ribs feel any better, and she tried to steady her breathing.

"Are you OK?" She asked after a minute, ignoring the fact that they were almost vertical and staring at dirt through the windshied.

Sophia was panting next to her.

"I'm so sorry!" Sophia squealed out.

"Are you OK?" Carol repeated.

"Yeah…" Sophia panted out.

Carol opened her door and gravity snatched the door open. She unbuckled her seatbelt and wrestled her way out of the car. She didn't bother trying to close the door at the moment. She stood in the ditch trying to still her shaking knees. Sophia wrestled out of the driver's side and she could tell the girl was on the verge of tears.

"Don't cry!" Carol commanded. She looked at the situation. They were not getting the car out of the ditch themselves. It wasn't possible.

Sophia was climbing out of the ditch, obviously seized by the desire to cry but trying to hold it back.

"Oh shit!" She spat, once she was on the edge of the road. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

Carol came around climbing out of the ditch beside Sophia.

"It's OK," Carol said. "It was bound to happen. It's out of the way now…"

Carol genuinely wasn't upset about it and she wasn't really sure why. It was almost funny right this moment, looking at the car that was almost vertical. Luckily neither of them had been injured and really it didn't look like that big of a deal. She supposed that she should be somewhat bothered by it, but she wasn't.

"Go in the house," Carol said. "Call your shop buddies and see if someone can't come down here and get us out of the ditch."

Sophia nodded, still fighting tears and Carol watched her wobble toward the house on obviously shaky legs. Carol understood, since her own knees hadn't stopped shaking either. There was no reason to panic, though. Someone would pull the car out of the ditch and then this would just be something they'd laugh about when Sophia could make it into the driveway without running them off the road.

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Carol stood off to the side beside Sophia. The girl looked humiliated and horrified all at the same time and Carol considered once or twice reaching over and wrapping an arm around her to try to calm her. She remembered the way the girl had shied away from her hand, though, so she didn't.

A good humored black man driving a truck that had Tootie's Towing sprawled across the side in neon pink letters was hooking the car up while Robert Wren supervised from the roadside.

"I think you failed your take off, Wendy," Wren said. He was chuckling and pacing back and forth staring at the car that was stuck in the ditch.

Sophia didn't respond to him. She was hugging herself with one arm and the other was against her chest, nervously twining her hair around her finger. She still looked like she might bust into tears at any given moment.

"It's OK," Carol said again. "It's really not a big deal." She directed her concerns toward the tiny man standing near her who lit a cigarette and watched as the man introduced to her as Tootie finished loading the car up. "It's not a big deal, is it?"

Wren looked at her, smiling. He shook his head.

"Nah…ain't no big thing," he said. "Probably fucked up ya front end and your alignment's going to be rough as hell, but it ain't gonna blow up or nothing. We could fix it if you want."

Carol shook her head.

"I think it's fine like it is," she said.

She didn't want to admit that she was thinking that this might not be the only time they ended up in the ditch. If she had any interest in all of fixing the vehicle she thought it might be best to wait until Sophia more or less had this driving thing down pat. Then she could get all the dents and bangs sorted out at once instead of doing them one by one.

"What happened anyway?" Wren asked, walking over. He glanced over at Sophia and Carol thought she saw something like understanding flash in his eyes.

"Just a little accident," Carol said. "First time out."

"Ditch is a hell of a lot easier to hit than the driveway, right Wendy?" Wren asked.

Carol glanced over at Sophia. Sophia looked embarrassed.

Wren stepped forward and reached his arm out. He pinched gently at Sophia's bent elbow.

"Why the fuck ya look like that Wendy?" Wren asked. "Think ya the first damn person to run into a ditch? 'Cause if you was the first person to do some shit like that Mac's would have closed down years ago."

Sophia didn't respond, but Carol had noticed that the girl didn't flinch away from Wren quite the same way she had when she'd touched her. She wasn't sure why, though, and she wondered if she should let it give her some hope that eventually Sophia wouldn't flinch when she got close to her either.

Wren turned his attention toward Carol. He nodded his head, his tongue playing at the corner of his mouth. He glanced a moment at Sophia.

"When my oldest boy, Jared, was learning to drive, he drove right through the damn pump house in our yard. My youngest, Nathan, he took a different route," Wren said. Carol saw his eyes dart back over to Sophia and the girl looked at him.

"What did he do?" She asked, her voice a little shaky still from all the excitement.

Wren chuckled.

"Son of a bitch hit my wife's car full force and knocked it forward into the damn dog house. Wrecked my truck, my wife's car, and tore down the damn dog's house. Furry fucker barely made it out alive," Wren said. He howled with laughter apparently at the memory.

"You weren't pissed?" Sophia asked.

Wren chuckled.

"I weren't quite as calm about it as ya Ma here, but I wasn't pissed for too long. Shit happens, Wendy. This shit…the little shit…that's the shit you can fix. Ain't nothing he did we couldn't put the fuck back together," Wren said.

Sophia looked a little relieved and Carol was at once thankful for the little man. He might be a rough spoken asshole, but if he knew how to calm Sophia down, she'd take it right now.

Tootie pulled the car out of the ditch and drug it up on the road. When it was on the road, he got out of the truck and started unhooking it while Wren around and dusted dirt off the front end, running his hand along it.

"Beat the hell up," he said, "but nothing that can't be fixed."

"I'm sure I'll get it fixed it at some point," Carol said. She waiting until Tootie and Wren were ready to get back in the truck to leave and she tried to pay them, but they both denied her money, saying that it was all in a day's work and every new driver got their first tow for free. When the men drove off, Carol got in the car and pulled it into the driveway, feeling that Sophia had probably had all the driving excitement that she needed.

Sophia was quiet when they got back into the house and the girl started directly for the stairs.

"Sophia?" Carol called. Sophia turned around.

"I'm sorry," Sophia said for probably the thousandth time. Carol shook her head.

"That's not why I was calling you back," Carol said. "It's not a big deal, honey. We all do those things when we're learning to drive. Tomorrow we're going out again, whenever we finish dinner."

Sophia shook her head.

"I don't think I want to…not tomorrow," she said.

"Why not tomorrow?" Carol asked.

"I've got…I've got homework that I've got to do," Sophia said.

Carol knew very well what was going on. She'd done the same thing when she'd plowed the mailbox out of the ground the first time in her father's truck. She smiled.

"I'll make sure you get back in time to do your homework," Carol said. "We'll just go around the block. Won't take long."

Sophia looked at her and Carol could see that the day had made the girl tired. She wanted, more than she'd thought she would, to reach out and offer the girl a hug. She wished she had some way to get the girl to understand that she really wasn't upset, and it really wasn't a big deal.

"Sophia," Carol said, "I'm really not mad at you. You didn't do anything bad. You understand that, right?"

Sophia somewhat nodded at her. Carol sighed a little.

"OK then…" she said. "I'm going to go and take a bath. Are you going to be alright?"

"I'm fine," Sophia said. Her voice sounded a little stronger and Carol wondered if she was going to start recovering from this now.

Carol nodded.

"OK…" she said. "If you need anything, you just let me know."

Sophia nodded slightly before turning and starting up the stairs. Carol watched her until she disappeared and then she went into the kitchen, plucking a piece of pizza out the box. She chewed it a moment, thinking to herself that teaching Sophia to drive might very well be more of an adventure than she'd imagined. She sighed and started through the house toward her bathroom, hoping that the warm water might help the soreness that was developing from the repeated snatching motion of the seatbelts.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: I know, I know I'm a big meanie head and you were expecting Daryl to show up in the last chapter. Sorry about that. LOL As Carylers, though, we have all kinds of infinite patience. We are getting closer, though. **

**All of your driving stories had me cackling. I guess both in learning to drive and teaching others to drive we can relate!**

**Here's another little chapter for you, moving us along. Wrote it over coffee for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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When Sophia got to the shop, the tow truck with the ridiculous pink letters was parked outside. Inside the shop she found Tootie and Daryl leaning against the work counter while Wren and Merle were involved in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Sophia raised an eyebrow at the men as she came through the door.

"Inventing new ways not to get a damn thing done?" Sophia asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Gotta go pick a body up that Mac bought an' it's over in Union. These two assholes is playin' over who's gotta be my ride along," Daryl said.

"Everyone wants it that bad?" Sophia asked.

"Correction," Wren said. "No one wants it. Loser has to go all the way to Union with Daryl's ass…and back. Longest fucking ride of your life."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shifted his weight.

Sophia looked at him.

"What's a ride along do?" She asked.

"Not really a damn thing," Daryl said. "Basically one a' their pretty asses sits in the seat an' says they was there if anythin' goes wrong ta say I hooked the damn thing up proper."

"Can I do it?" Sophia asked.

Wren and Merle both froze in their game.

"There ya go, Derlina!" Merle said, grinning. "Take bat girl with ya! She'd like a trip ta Union an' Wren an' me can finish up the work we got goin' here."

Daryl rolled his eyes again.

"You fuckers ain't doin' shit while I'm gone an' ya know it," Daryl said.

"I thought I was Wendy?" Sophia asked.

Wren chuckled.

"Names are subject to change right regular, Wendy," Wren said. "Get'cha scrawny ass in the truck in when y'all stop for dinner on the way back at the grill, remember I want two, that's two, Wendy," Wren held up two fingers, "chili burgers with slaw."

Sophia looked at Daryl.

"Call ya fuckin' Ma an' tell her I'm haulin' ya ta Union if ya goin'," Daryl said. "Don't want her callin' the damn cops 'cause she reckons I fuckin' kidnapped ya ass."

Sophia didn't argue. She went straight to the yellow phone on the wall and dialed Carol's work number, having memorized by now several of the numbers she felt might be important for her current life. She explained that she was going to ride along with Daryl to pick something up for Mac and finally sighed, holding the phone out at arm's length.

"She wants to talk to you," Sophia said, making a face at Daryl.

Daryl crossed the shop quickly and took the phone, assuring Carol that he was indeed going to Union on business and Sophia was riding along to keep him company and act as a witness to the work he was doing. He promised, before he got off the phone, to bring Sophia by the house when they got back from their excursion and told her that Mac would pay for Sophia's dinner since they always ate at a truck stop grill just in town when they went there.

Sophia barely waited for Daryl to hang up the receiver before she bounded toward the ridiculously painted tow truck.

"Two chili cheeseburgers, Wendy!" Wren called out. "And don't forget the slaw or Tootie won't haul ya ass out of no more ditches!"

Sophia flipped him the bird as she opened the passenger side of the truck and climbed in, waiting on Daryl to come.

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Sophia couldn't figure out why Wren and Merle didn't want to do a ride along. She'd literally spent the trip riding in the truck and Mac was paying her for it. When they got to the combination shop and junk yard, Sophia loitered around waiting while Daryl loaded up the rusty old car that for some reason or another Mac wanted and exchanged a few words of shop talk with the old man that ran the place who spent most of the time rubbing at his hands with an oily old cloth and asking questions about Mac and Wren.

After they'd left the shop, Daryl pulled them into a greasy spoon place with about three semi-trucks parked in the parking lot and maybe six regular vehicles and led her inside. Sophia waited while Daryl ordered and then he carried a try loaded with burgers and fried wrapped in greasy wax paper to a cracked booth while Sophia carried sodas over for them. She slid into the booth and gazed out the window, quickly spotting the truck that they were responsible for.

Daryl flung one of the grease soaked burgers in her direction and Sophia unwrapped it.

"Why didn't Wren and Merle want to come?" She asked. Daryl looked at her, chewing a bite of the dripping burger. He hadn't been very talkative on the ride, but she'd more than expected that. Daryl wasn't as chatty as his workmates. Daryl shrugged a little.

"Fucker's got 'em a case a beer, ya can bet that damn much. They'll be sauced by the time we roll back up," Daryl said.

Sophia gazed out the window again.

"What's Mac want with that ugly ass old car anyway?" Sophia asked. The car was terrible. It was rusty and what remained of the paint job was an almost nauseating orange and white motif.

Daryl chuckled.

"Fuck ya talkin' 'bout. Ain't a bad little car," Daryl said. He sucked down a good bit of his soda and looked out the window, obviously considering a different car than Sophia saw hooked to the back of the truck. "That's a 75 Mustang…Cobra," Daryl said. "Ain't the nicest damn car ya could have but I reckon for what he paid for it ain't shit ta sneeze at."

"Daryl it's terrible," Sophia said. She bit into her burger. The food was greasy and Sophia was pretty sure that it wasn't good for anyone, but it was good. It was the kind of burger that made your stomach growl while you were still eating it because it kept anticipating another bite.

Daryl shook his head.

"Nah…ain't terrible. Don't even need all that much work. Take care a' the rust an' the hood needs some work. Give that shit a new damn paint job an' it'll turn some heads," Daryl said. "That's what the hell ya don't get about body work…that's what the hell most people don't get."

"What do you mean?" Sophia asked. Daryl didn't talk much at all, but Sophia knew he couldn't resist talking if you got him on a subject that he gave a damn about, and cars was something he gave a damn about.

"Good damn body man's gotta have vision," Daryl said, still looking out the window. "Gotta be able to see that shit for what she was when she was new. Know ya gonna treat her right an' she's gonna be somethin' special 'cause of it." He pointed out the window as though Sophia didn't know what they were both looking at. "All that shit ya see makes ya say she's a' ugly ass car's all shit that a good damn body man can make go away. By the time she's done, ya won't even remember that shit."

"So Mac's going to make that car look like it did when it was new?" Sophia asked.

Daryl shook his head and ate about half of his second burger in almost a gulp before washing it down with more of his soda and shaking his head.

"Prob'ly not. Mac'll park that shit up behind the shop in the fuckin' car graveyard where all his projects go ta die an' it'll really go ta shit," Daryl said. "Less attention ya pay a car the faster shit gets outta hand an' the more work it'll take ta fix 'em 'til it just ain't worth it no more."

Sophia felt funny. She almost felt sorry for the car when Daryl put it that way. She'd seen the rusty cars up behind the shop and now she wondered if that had been their fate too.

"But you could make it look like new? Like you're doing with that car that you're working on?" Sophia asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Good damn body man don't make that shit look like new," he said. "Make it look fuckin' better than new…that's the trick. Take that same damn car that people like you rollin' their lip up at an' turn it into somethin' that every damn body's slobberin' over an' shit 'cause they just want the chance to have it," Daryl said.

Sophia laughed at him.

"You must think you're some pretty tough shit," Sophia said.

Daryl shrugged and nodded.

"I'm the best there fuckin' is," he said. He smiled a little. "Least I ain't seen not a single fucker could do better…don't mean he ain't out there…but I ain't met him."

Sophia chuckled.

"You're an arrogant asshole," Sophia said, eating some of her fries.

Daryl chuckled.

"Doin' body work's about five percent bullshit, forty percent vision, and forty five percent skill," Daryl said. He slurped noisily out of his straw.

"That's only ninety," Sophia responded a moment later. "What's the other ten percent?"

"You're pretty damn slick," Daryl said. He chuckled. "The other fuckin' ten percent is bein' an arrogant asshole."

Sophia laughed.

"So could you fix anything?" Sophia asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"I reckon I could fix 'bout any damn thing ya could find," he said.

"Even something that's too far gone to worry about?" Sophia asked.

Daryl shrugged again.

"Yeah, I could fix it. Thing is it ain't that it's too far gone ta fix, it's just that a lotta that shit ya'd sink more time an' effort into it than ya'd ever get paid back for. If ya lookin' ta make some kinda fuckin' livin' off somethin' ya always gotta keep in mind how much ya puttin' in versus how damn much ya getting' out."

Sophia could understand that. You didn't have to be a genius to figure out that was how business worked. You couldn't get very far if you put in more than you got out of something.

"You never keep any of it though…except that truck…what's with the truck?" Sophia asked.

"First damn piece I ever did myself," Daryl said. "Somethin' 'bout that first one…ya put so damn much a' fuckin' soul in it, but when it's done it's damn near the best thing ya could even make up."

Daryl paused and then laughed, presumably at his fries, but Sophia imagined it was more than that.

"What?" She asked.

Daryl laughed again and shook his head.

"Nothin'," he said.

"What is it?" Sophia asked.

"They say ya first damn piece a' ass is s'posed ta be like that. Don't never get that shit outta ya head," Daryl said.

Sophia curled her lip at him.

"You're a nasty ass," she spat.

Daryl chuckled again.

"You the one wanted ta know what I was laughin' at," Daryl said.

"Is it true?" Sophia asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Shit's true enough 'bout the fuckin' truck, but I can't say the same for the ass," Daryl responded. "First damn piece I ever got weren't none too fuckin' memorable. Some half-drunk slut that Merle was fuckin' 'round with."

Sophia curled her lip at him again.

"You're gross, Daryl," she said. Daryl chuckled and shrugged.

"Ya gonna learn ta stop askin' fuckin' questions if ya don't want no damn information. Ain't gross…just the fuckin' truth. I'da rather had the truck any damn day," Daryl said.

Sophia turned her attention away from Daryl for the moment and left him with his woman and his truck, whichever one had the smirk painted across his face. Finally, after a moment, she turned back to him.

"Can you teach me?" Sophia asked.

She wasn't expected to get sprayed with Daryl's coke, and she wasn't expecting him to nearly choke to death on whatever part of the beverage he'd sucked down into his lungs. He coughed until he got control of himself.

"What the fuck kinda shit is that?" He spat, his eyes wide.

Sophia realized that they'd been on different wavelengths for the moment and she curled her lip again.

"Eeew! Jesus, Daryl! I meant can you teach me to do body work you sicko!" Sophia spat.

Daryl calmed down and got control of himself.

"Ya serious?" He asked after a moment.

Sophia nodded.

"Yeah, can you teach me?" She asked.

Daryl seemed to consider it for a moment before finally shrugging.

"Hell ya can do some grunt work 'round the shop. Start learning how ta sand…tape up cars. Wren can help ya with some a' that shit. Save him some time," Daryl said.

"I mean the real stuff," Sophia said, wrinkling her brow at him.

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her.

"Ya gotta do the grunt shit first," Daryl said. "Ya don't start nothin' knowin' what the fuck ya doin'. If ya ain't got the damn patience ta do the fuckin' dirty work then ya ain't never gon' be no damn good at the finishin' details 'cause ya ain't gon' give two fucks about all that went into it ta get the shit where it needed ta be."

Sophia sighed.

"Fine, I'll do your dirty work," Sophia said. "When can I start?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Hell we got a buncha shit ya can start helpin' with now," Daryl said. "If'n ya gonna start doin' that shit, though, ya better tell Mac ya wanna raise. If ya gonna do somethin' that's worth a damn ya oughta earn more than two fifty for it."

Sophia grinned.

"I'll start when we get back, then," she said.

Daryl glanced up at the clock on the wall of the dive they were eating in.

"Ya gonna start that shit tomorrow if ya start at all," he said. "We gon' get back just in damn time for me ta get'cha ass home for ya Ma starts losin' her shit."

"I told you," Sophia said, collecting up her trash and balling it on the tray with Daryl's. "She ain't my mother."

"She take care a' ya skinny ass?" Daryl asked.

Sophia shrugged.

"Looks like she ain't knocked none a' ya damn teeth out for joyridin' her fuckin' car through a drainage ditch," Daryl said.

Sophia made a face at him.

"Reckon she's 'bout good as ya gonna get far as a Ma goes," Daryl said. "Don't always get what we fuckin' want, but it's sure as shit better ta have somethin' than have nothin'."

Daryl slid out of the booth and picked the tray up. Sophia followed after him toward the trash can with the drink cups in her hand.

"What was your mother like?" Sophia asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"I reckon by my own damn reasonin' my Ma's name was Merle. Ain't she a fuckin' beauty?" Daryl said.

Sophia was struck at the moment. She wasn't really sure what Daryl was trying to say, but she assumed that he meant that Merle had taken care of him…and apparently that Merle had refrained from knocking his teeth out when he did shit. She didn't ask any more questions, though. It was clear from Daryl's facial expression that he was closing out that chapter of the conversation. She might, if she was lucky, get him to talking more about cars on the drive back, but he didn't like talking about his family much.

Daryl pulled a sweaty bill out of his pocket and handed it to Sophia.

"I'm goin' ta take a piss," he said. "Get Wren's fuckin' burgers an' meet me at the truck."

Sophia accepted the money and stepped toward the counter to order the burgers. They'd head back after this, ugly and rusted gem of a car in tow, and Daryl would take Sophia home. Tomorrow she'd start training with Daryl instead of sweeping up shop dust. The thought alone was enough to make the drive back exciting.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: So ideally I wanted to get about three chapters out tonight to get to a certain point in my plans. Then I thought I'd settle for two…but we've landed on one. Things don't always pan out the way you wish and the muse isn't always with you when you want it to be, right? LOL**

**I regret to say that this is not an exciting chapter. It's really more of a transition/progression/filler chapter that moves us a little farther from point A and toward point B. Sorry about that…they have to happen. I've got a lot going on tomorrow but if I can get inspired I might try to get something out over coffee (maybe) and perhaps another chapter later to move us forward.**

**Even though it's not the most thrilling, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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As the weeks passed on, Sophia had begun to feel something with her life that she'd never felt before. In fact, she wasn't really sure what the word she would use to describe it would be. Perhaps she could call it "bored", but it wasn't the "bored" that everyone used at school about Biology class or Calculus. It was the best kind of "bored" that Sophia could think of.

Sophia negotiated, with Carol, for another month in the house. It hadn't been so much a negotiation, actually, as it had been more or less the request for another month and Carol had accepted it without hesitation.

Sophia had acquired, out of the grimy office of the shop, one of the calendars that the men who stopped by driving parts trucks dropped off by the handful. Each month of the calendar offered some special part that the company was trying to sell, some photograph of a brightly painted car, and of course the dates. The dates were what held particular interest for Sophia.

She'd thumb tacked the calendar to her wall and circled the date that she suspected her time in Carol's house to end if she didn't negotiate for more time. She crossed the days off as they went, and each night she checked the distance between the day she crossed off and the date she had circled.

She wasn't sure, though, as time ticked slowly on, that she wanted to leave. She liked the "bored" feeling that had come over her. She'd cleaned out, with Carol's permission given at a shrug, nod, and smile, one of the dressers in the room. She'd piled the clothes that were in there and smelled of moth balls into a cardboard box and shoved it in the corner of one of the closets. Then she'd unpacked her suitcase into the drawers.

The first night after she unpacked the bag, Sophia stood for some time simply opening and closing the drawers. She didn't need anything out of them, but there was an odd feeling behind opening the drawer and seeing her things peek out at her before she closed it back, knowing they'd still be there when she returned, and that the suitcase that was pushed under the bed would remain there until the sand ran out of the hourglass…on a date which was circled on a calendar.

Her days were "boring" too…their ticking monotony comforting in a way that Sophia wasn't accustomed to.

Most mornings she woke on her own, having always been an early riser, but others she was awakened by the now familiar sound of Carol's knocking and calling her name. She gathered up her school things, packed her backpack, dressed, and ate breakfast with Carol every day.

At breakfast the conversation was generally the same. It was the time when both of them laid down their plans for the day. They were plans that seldom fluxuated besides an appointment here or something there. Yet every day the plans were laid out while Sophia ate and Carol drank coffee across the table from her.

Then Sophia would take the bus to school. That was her least favorite part of the day, school. She didn't really have any friends at school and she had very little desire to try and assimilate to those around her. She tried, most of the time, to keep one of the books that Carol brought home from the library close by and she buried herself in it during the bus rides. In class she absorbed herself in whatever drivel the teachers poured out at her, and she ate lunch alone most of the time.

Staying to herself at school was what worked best for Sophia. If she didn't try to interact with anyone, then there weren't conflicts. If there weren't conflicts, then she spent less time in detention and didn't have to worry so much that the school was going to call Carol.

That was the biggest preoccupation that Sophia had begun to have, as she focused more and more on the calendar thumb tacked to her wall that this month advertised a special price on flywheels. She'd begun to entertain the idea that she might push the circled date over to another page…or even two pages over…she might even make it all the way to Christmas at Carol's house, and Sophia wondered what Christmas at Carol's house might be like.

Sophia worried, though, that too many conflicts at school or any other such accumulation of disappointment might lessen Carol's desire to continue extending their verbal contract. Carol had not indicated any desire to terminate the contract, but Sophia still couldn't help but worry that she would.

After school Sophia generally went straight to the shop before Carol even got off of work. She tolerated, while there, any amount of harassment from the men in exchange for the lessons that she took seriously. She prided herself, already, on being one of the best water sanders in the shop and was more than willing to stand for the few hours after school and water sand parts until her fingertips were all but nonexistent. She'd even, once or twice, brought Carol to the shop to show her the job that she'd done on some doors or a quarter panel…a job well done according to Wren and Daryl who worked most closely with her.

Her hours done at the shop, Sophia always got home in time to eat dinner, which was always spotted with conversation that recapped their boring days, and drive for a little while with Carol. She felt like her driving was improving, and she noticed that Carol was beginning to spend less time clutching the door handle like it was a lifeline.

Sophia liked driving the car, at least on the roads around where they lived. They seldom encountered other cars and every now and again they had the excitement of a destination in their driving when Sophia drove Carol to the shop instead of just circling aimlessly in the surrounding area.

What Sophia did not like, however, were the few trips they had taken into town. She didn't like the other cars. She felt like at every turn something was going to happen and even though she knew that the car fit well on one side of the road, she knew she wasn't a master at keeping it on the side she was attempting to keep it on. As a result, she got nervous every time she met a vehicle and typically closed one or both eyes as they passed, catching Carol's attention more than once and getting her the repeated lecture that she shouldn't close her eyes at all while driving. Somehow, though, her brain seemed to think that the car would fit better where she wanted it to be if she couldn't see the approaching car as it passed by them.

So far, in addition to the ditch beside their driveway, Sophia had managed to run the car into two other ditches. She'd also clipped, and consequently knocked down, part of the small stone wall that Mac had built to line the driveway of the shop. There was also a bush at the end of their road, just near where she typically turned, that had probably seen happier days. But Sophia was getting better, and those accidents happened with less frequency than they had. Now her biggest fear was driving around other vehicles.

No matter, though, what Sophia had done so far, Carol hadn't lost her cool with driving, and Sophia was surprised. She was, consequently, constantly worried that the shoe would fall. She'd been around plenty of people in her life, but no one that seemed as mellow about things as Carol did. If Sophia hit the bush, Carol corrected her driving and instructed her to back off the bush. If Sophia ran in the ditch, Carol switched with her and got the car out of the ditch in easy situations, or Tootie and company were called to come and drag the car out if Carol couldn't coax it out. When Sophia had taken down part of the stone wall at the shop, Carol had offered to pay Mac for it, and Mac had waved her off, saying that Wren had put the stones up the first time, and it wouldn't cost him any extra to send him down there again.

Carol never seemed bothered by Sophia's failed driving beyond her reminders and lessons about one thing or another, all of which Sophia tried to remember right until she freaked out and forgot them again. The only indication she had, honestly, that Carol wasn't entirely comfortable with her driving was the fact that the woman clutched the door handle in most situations and sat rigidly the entire time they attempted any driving in town.

Sophia couldn't much blame her for that, though, since she too was terrified most of the times that she was driving. She'd run a few stop signs as well…and each time she did it she tried to declare that she really had no need to drive the car beyond the quiet back roads where running a stop sign meant nothing instead of screeching tires and a moment of prayer.

Yes, Sophia was beginning to enjoy boredom in her life.

She had developed, though she would have never admitted it to anyone for fear that there was something wrong with it, a mild fascination with Carol. She was constantly afraid that the woman would realize it, and maybe she would find something wrong with it…confirming Sophia's fears.

In one of her notebooks for school, in one of the back pages, Sophia had begun to take notes. There weren't many of them, but they were short notes about what she had learned about the woman. Each time she gathered some new piece of information, almost like putting together some sort of detective case log, she jotted down the information.

She wasn't sure why it mattered to her…but she liked having the notes written down. They were something concrete. Something she could see. A collection of pieces of information about Carol. Each one of them had been traded for something, some piece of Sophia's life, and Sophia didn't like giving up those pieces, so what she got in return was valuable to her. Having a log of it, some sort of measurable amount, was oddly important to her.

There were things there like Carol's age…the fact that she had been married to a man that Sophia knew now was named Ed…the fact that he had been an undesirable man at best…the fact that Carol had lost a child…all recorded there. There were also things recorded that Sophia merely suspected. For instance, she knew that something was wrong with Carol's left knee…though she wasn't sure what it was. Whatever was wrong with it, or whatever had happened, meant that when she attempted to get up from low places she moved at a slower speed than Sophia expected from a thirty three year old. She also noticed that, sometimes at night when they would watch movies on the couch, Carol would absentmindedly rub her hand over the knee, massaging in some way the knee cap.

And finally there were the really small things that Sophia noticed. The things that really didn't mean anything, but for some reason she liked to have them there. The fact that Carol always bought the same brand of shampoo, that she liked vanilla scented candles and lit one almost every night in the kitchen after she made dinner, or the fact that when Sophia encountered her at night, after she'd gotten ready for bed, she always smelled like some sort of floral scent that Sophia couldn't quite identify, even though she'd looked briefly through her bathroom one day in search of the lotion or perfume that might have produced the scent.

Sophia liked the facts though, small as they were, and she liked having them written down. She reread them all each time she added something new to the collection, and guarded the notebook so that no one would find the fact sheet and question her about the importance of such useless pieces of information. They were hers…and though she didn't know why she felt the need to keep them…she wasn't willing to part with them.

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Carol waited for Sophia to come down for breakfast. While she waited, she straightened up the kitchen area that had become somewhat cluttered. She tossed Sophia's Calculus book, which had been abandoned on the couch the night before, into the chair that Sophia occupied for breakfast. The girl had a tendency to forget her books and the old man who taught Calculus was rigid about things. Carol had already signed three detention slips for Sophia simply for forgetting the Calculus book alone.

Carol picked up Sophia's shoes by the door and frowned when a pile of dirt was left behind. Sophia's shop sneakers, as she had begun calling them, seemed to be almost like sandboxes. She had no idea how the girl wore them. Carol opened the door and beat the shoes for what seemed like the millionth time before putting them back near her new indoor beach and deciding to clean up the mess after work.

Carol was just stepping to the sink to wash her hands when she heard the now familiar clomping of Sophia's school shoes on the floor.

"Toast is on the table," Carol said, "but you'll have to get the jam out the fridge."

Sophia didn't respond, which wasn't too unusual. The girl wasn't much of a morning person and conversation could be difficult to achieve. Carol dried her hands and picked up the cup of coffee that she'd prepared before dodging Sophia, who silently got a jar of jam out of the fridge, and passing to the breakfast table and taking a seat.

"I've got to work late today," Carol said, "but I won't be too late. I've got to help Jacqui with an online catalog she's trying to get working."

Sophia nodded a little, slopping jam onto her toast.

"I've got a Biology test," Sophia said, sucking the jam off her fingers.

"Sophia, use a napkin please," Carol said. Sophia rolled her eyes at her before picking up the napkin that Carol had put on the table and wiping off the fingers she'd already sucked clean.

"Might be at the shop late today," Sophia said.

"What's going on today?" Carol asked. She'd never known much about what happened in shops like Mac's, but she was becoming better versed in the jargon than she'd ever imagined possible.

"Nothing, really…Tootie's bringing by this car that some guy had built and it's got suicide doors and everything. It's a finished hot rod. Was in one of the calendars that we got out there. I want to see it and Tootie said that if the guy didn't mind we could ride in it," Sophia said.

Carol had never known a girl as interested in cars as Sophia was, but she assumed that the girl could have worse hobbies. At least, for as troubled as she was supposed to be, Sophia seemed to stay out of trouble beyond what Carol considered would be typical for any teenager.

"What's a suicide door?" Carol asked. She didn't like the sound of anything that included the word suicide, though she imagined that it probably was some kind of lingo that she hadn't picked up on and her ignorance would elicit a chuckle from the girl.

Sophia didn't laugh though. She crammed the rest of the toast in her mouth and wiped her hands on her pants, forgetting her napkin again, before making something that looked to Carol like a sign for bird.

"Doors open like this 'stead of like they oughtta," Sophia said, bits of toast flying out her mouth. Carol nodded her understanding a little.

"Sophia…" she said.

The girl knew immediately what she was going to say and covered her mouth with her hand until she'd finished chewing, nodding her head as she chewed.

"It's a pretty sweet ass car," Sophia said.

Carol frowned. Sophia's language left something to be desired, but Carol usually reserved her scolding for if it got too out of control. She'd seen the men that Sophia worked with in action enough to know that one or two improper words were bound to fall out at times. She chose her battles and reserved her criticism for when the words began to string together like a paper chain.

"Are these suicide doors dangerous?" Carol asked. "Why are they called suicide doors?"

Sophia shrugged.

"Don't know why they call them that, just do. Can't be dangerous if the car's famous enough to be in a calendar and Tootie's driving it over so it's a good car," Sophia said.

Carol glanced at the clock over the stove and calculated exactly how much time she had left before she needed to send Sophia on her way to the bus and she needed to disappear to her room to get ready for the day.

"Sophia, I wanted to ask you…" Carol started.

Sophia raised an eyebrow at her, gulping down the milk in front of her.

"Your birthday's coming up, is there anything special you'd like?" Carol asked.

Sophia looked at her with the same expression she would have expected from someone if she'd asked them about their feelings on flying saucers. Carol suspected that the girl probably didn't do much to celebrate her birthday in the past, and she kind of wanted to do something special for her, but if Sophia was an open book it was written in a language that Carol didn't understand.

Also, the girl simply didn't seem to have any hobbies or any likes beyond cars and the shop, and Carol wasn't exactly sure how to fashion that into any kind of birthday celebration. She couldn't afford to get the girl a car, and if she could she wouldn't. She was simply hoping her own car survived the rest of the adventures that teaching Sophia to drive were bound to take them on.

Sophia shook her head.

"I'm good. I don't need anything," she said.

Carol chuckled.

"I didn't ask if you needed anything, Sophia, I asked if you wanted anything. You don't have to answer today, though, you can think about it," Carol said.

"Whatever," Sophia responded, shrugging.

Carol frowned.

"Would you like to have a party? Invite some friends from school maybe?" Carol asked. She hadn't heard Sophia talk about anyone from school, but she was holding out the hope that perhaps the girl would begin to socialize and extend her circle of friends to include nearly anyone besides Mac, Wren, Daryl, and Tootie.

Sophia shook her head.

"Don't got no one to ask," Sophia said. "Besides, I don't need a party. I'm too old for that baby shit."

Carol nodded a little.

"Fine," she said. "If you don't want a party then we don't have to have one. Maybe we'll just have cake or something?"

Sophia shrugged again.

"Whatever," she responded.

Carol sighed. If she was going to do anything at all for the girl's birthday then she was going to do it on her own. Sophia wasn't, apparently, going to make it too easy on her.

Carol was beginning to learn that Sophia didn't like Carol thinking she needed or wanted anything. That wasn't to say, of course, that she actually didn't need anything, it was just that she didn't like to admit it. She accepted, gratefully, anything that Carol gave her or did for her, but she wouldn't make requests. Carol felt like she would try to do just about anything for the girl if she'd just open up enough to indicate even one thing that she actually really desired. At this point, Carol was beginning to feel that being asked to fill the request would make her as happy as filling nearly any request could make Sophia.

Sophia got up from the table and Carol watched as she shoved her Calculus book into her backpack. It was time, essentially, for the girl to leave if she wasn't going to be rushed getting to where the bus picked her up.

"We're going driving this evening," Carol said, draining her coffee cup. "I've got to pick some stuff up in town and you're going to drive us there."

Sophia let out a bit of an exasperated growl.

"If we're both going to be late," Sophia said, "shouldn't we just do around the block tonight?"

Carol shook her head.

"We'll have time to run to town," Carol said. "It won't be too late."

She knew that Sophia hated driving in town, and the girl did get freaked out and therefore was a little more reckless when surrounded by traffic, but it was a fear that she was going to have to overcome. Little by little, whatever it took, she was going to have to learn to drive around other cars. It simply wasn't possible to go her entire life without encountering other drivers.

Sophia didn't respond, but the sigh she released as she yanked open the door and started out told Carol that she was not looking forward to their excursion.

"Good luck on your test!" Carol called as the door slammed shut behind the girl.

Carol got up and put her coffee cup and Sophia's glass in the sink. She tossed out the napkin that Sophia had hardly used and mopped up the spilled jam with a washrag before slipping into her room to pull on clothes and head to work. She hoped that Jacqui, in all her infinite creativity, could help her figure out something that would excite the girl for her sixteenth birthday, since asking her flat out had been a bust.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: So here is one of the chapters that I intended to get out yesterday and just didn't get around to. **

**I have to offer disclaimers in pretty much every story I write that there are a number of things (particularly medical/legal/etc. type things) that I write about when I have no professional knowledge of them. Google is sometimes my friend, but we all know that Google fails us at times. That being said, I always ask that people remember that stories are for entertainment purposes, so if something isn't 100% correct and factual, I ask you to overlook it for the entertainment value of the story. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"Sophia, you've only got to drive to the store. I'll drive us back, it'll be too late for you to drive anyway," Carol responded to Sophia's protests to avoid driving into town.

Sophia knew she wasn't winning this. For as calm and put together as Carol could be, she was also as hardheaded as they came. Once she insisted on something, she just went along as though that were the indisputable way things would go.

Sophia growled and got in the car, buckling her seatbelt and waiting on Carol to get situated. They were going to make a quick run to the grocery store and then Carol would drive back.

"Can I at least take Old Mill Road?" Sophia asked. It was the long way to get into town from where they lived, and it required her driving on what might have loosely been considered a highway, but it only had four stoplights and had a lot less decisions to be made than going through town. It was sort of a bypass, and the increased speed she had to maintain was preferable any day to Sophia over the necessity of judging twice as many lights.

Carol was fumbling in her purse after watching Sophia go through the initial checklist of mirrors and seat adjustment. She pulled out the small notepad she kept in there to start making the grocery list that she had failed to make earlier in the day.

"If you want to, Old Mill Road is fine tonight," Carol said. Sophia glanced at her to try and judge if it was really fine or if there was going to be evidence of irritation plastered across Carol's face. Sophia didn't see any irritation, though, and she assumed that Carol was mostly interested in actually getting the groceries and getting home. Sophia's driving lesson was only secondary to the trip.

Sophia checked behind her and backed out of the driveway in a smoother motion than she once had. That was one thing she could pretty much do like a champ. She wasn't sure why, but backwards wasn't as daunting for her as forward was, and she thought she might be ready for her driving test right now if it were permissible to merely drive in reverse at all times. Still, Carol watched with her as she backed out.

"I got it," Sophia said, noticing Carol looking over the back of the seat.

"Well alright then, you got it," Carol said. Sophia chuckled a little at the tone of Carol's voice. She knew the woman was teasing her, using the same tone of voice that she always used to respond when Sophia tried to let her know that she didn't need her constant supervision in something that she was doing.

Sophia put the car in drive and pulled forward. The best thing about going the Old Mill Road route was that it was back roads and almost a straight shot all the way to the road that could loosely be termed the only highway in the area.

Carol turned her attention back to her list, glancing up from time to time when she knew from instinct and the still rough braking motions that they were nearing a stop sign.

Sophia hated trying to control the brakes and the gas. In her mind she always brought the car to a smooth and gentle stop right at the sign. She looked both ways, and then she accelerated smoothly as they continued on their way.

That was in her mind though. In reality she had a terrible relationship with both of the pedals that was working itself out slowly, but far too slowly in her opinion. Her braking always sent both of them slinging forward somewhat in their seats, no matter how much she tried to tell her foot not to hit the brakes with much force, and she always stopped quite a few feet from her destination or either she brought them to a squealing halt just over the point where she wanted to stop.

The gas was even worse. When Carol drove the car they achieved a speed and it seemed like it was almost undetectable if the car ever changed speeds again without the appearance of a stop sign or the occasional poorly camouflaged deputy. When Sophia drove, however, she always felt like the car literally hopped forward at stop signs and then went through a series of surgings as she put pressure on the gas pedal and released it, praying to achieve the coveted status of a speedometer pin that stayed in the same place.

"Ease up, Sophia…start putting on the brake," Carol said as they approached a stop sign. In her mind, that's exactly what Sophia did. In reality they screeched to fairly sudden stop and Carol reached down in the foot to find the pen that she dropped as Sophia raised her foot off the brake and let the car idle forward to the sign before they jerked again.

"Sorry," Sophia said softly, not looking in Carol's direction for the moment.

"It's OK," Carol said. "Remember, just barely press down unless you need to stop immediately. If you hit it hard, we're going to stop hard."

Sophia nodded a little, feeling her cheeks burning hot. She wanted to be good at this driving thing, but she just wasn't. No matter how many times that Carol tried to tell her she was doing great, Sophia knew that she wasn't. If she were doing great she wouldn't cause the brakes to how as often as she did and Carol wouldn't walk around rubbing at her ribcage after they'd gone out for a lesson.

Sophia refused to cry about it, though, even though she wanted to almost every time she failed to execute the move that took place in her mind. She wasn't a cry baby. She'd never been a cry baby. She wasn't about to start now.

"Are we going, sweetheart?" Carol asked. Sophia realized she was just sitting at the stop sign at the end of the road instead of continuing the ever dreaded journey to the grocery store.

Sophia took a breath and checked the abandoned intersection before sending the car hopping across the street. She continued down the road and stopped at the next stop sign with a little less force than at the first. Carol barely glanced up from what she was doing and congratulated Sophia on a job well done, which Sophia meant knew that she was appreciative that she hadn't been almost flung into the dash again.

Once Sophia had pulled out onto Old Mill Road headed in the correct direction she started to get a little nervous. Now she had to maintain the speed set by the road and navigate the traffic. She had to just make it through three stoplights, turn left at the forth and go straight until she turned right into the grocery store. She kept repeating her plan over and over to keep herself calm.

"Good job," Carol said, watching around them a little nervously. "Get over into the right lane when you can and drive at a comfortable speed. Let them go around you if they want to."

Sophia nodded, remembering that she needed to breathe during the process, and merged when she could, noticing Carol glancing over her shoulder as they made it into the right lane.

Now she was more or less good to go.

Sophia started to calm down. She practiced taking deep breaths, like Carol kept telling her to do when she was driving, and started to sink into a slight confidence about the trip. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be and she was thankful that she didn't have the stress of the through town traffic complete with people who did lovely little things like indicated their attention to turn in one direction and then turned in another.

In fact, the drive was going so well that later Sophia would not be able to construct with any real accuracy what exactly had happened. The first light she went through on green without any problem, but the second light she, perhaps, panicked at it and it was almost as though her brain couldn't comprehend what she was supposed to do or how she was supposed to handle the traffics reaction to the light that changed to red not long before she got there. She'd slammed to a stop in response to the red, but she'd done it far too long after she should have.

Sophia's entire world ran in slow motion and the last thing she remembered before everything went dark were some howling sounds and the sharp feeling like her heart was going to explode.

When Sophia opened her eyes again, and her ears opened as well, there was too much stimulation for her to take in. The sounds and the feeling of hands on her, something scratching at her face, and voices that she didn't recognize and didn't want to hear. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but she could perceive it as nothing but chaos.

"You're fine…you're OK…can you tell me your name? Do you know your name?" The voice of a young woman who was filling Sophia's entire view for the moment kept asking her questions and she felt like she couldn't answer them, even though she knew the answers. One thing was knowing what to say and another was, in the moment, actually making the words find their way out of her mouth and to the ears of the young woman.

The woman's voice continued. She repeated over and over the same idea and asked time and time again the same questions. The only thing that changed was the way she worded them. She was so close to Sophia at times that Sophia couldn't help but, even in the mindboggling clutter of the moment, notice the hot smell of peppermint blowing on her face with the questions.

And when Sophia's body moved against her will, she started slowly to seep into reality, though it was a reality clouded by still trying to piece together all that was going on around her and to whom and what the voices and sounds belonged.

"Sophia," she finally got out to the girl full of questions who was prodding and poking her as she continued to speak.

"What did you say, sweetheart?" The woman asked.

"Sophia…I'm Sophia," Sophia choked out again.

The woman called her sweetheart. Carol called her sweetheart most of the time…and Sophia began to recall the wreck.

"Where's Carol?" Sophia asked, her insides clenching.

"It's OK, Sophia, you're OK," the woman said. "Just stay calm, we're taking you to the hospital, OK? You hit your head, but you're OK."

"Where's Carol?" Sophia repeated. She tried to sit up a little, but the woman pressed her back down.

"Don't move sweetheart, we're almost at the hospital, OK? Everything's fine and you're fine," the woman said.

Sophia felt her head aching then, a constant thump near her left eye and her mind was spinning. She felt like it was difficult to breathe and the woman must have some manner of suspecting it as she pressed something over Sophia's mouth and told her to breathe through her mouth.

Sophia hadn't been to hospitals very often in her life and she didn't care for doctors or medical personnel at all. She wanted to know what had happened beyond the broken and flashing memory that she had of realizing, a little too late, that she hadn't stopped as she'd intended at the stoplight. The young woman in front her, though, was only offering her smiles and hot minty breath instead of any of the information that she wanted.

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Sophia had damn near wrangled the nurse that finally decided to treat her as somewhat of an adult and not like a two year old on a sugar high that had gotten loose from its guardians.

She had accepted from three different people that they were going to get information. She had calmly accepted the fact that she needed stitches in her forehead and she'd allowed them to do the stitches without putting up so much as a small battle. She was beginning, however, to lose her patience when she'd finally gotten the attention of the final nurse.

Sophia didn't like talk of paperwork and protocol or any of the other bullshit put in place by the government and officials to jerk people around. She had heard enough of the jargon her entire life that just the mention of it made her wish she had the ability to projectile vomit on a whim.

Sophia didn't have to stay at the hospital any longer. The nurse, Ronnie according to her name tag, was the first one that offered Sophia some sort of explanation for her situation and told her that she'd find her a telephone on which Sophia agreed to call "her father" to pick her up. She was calling the shop and praying against the odds that any one of the assholes she worked with answered and was willing to come up there. Ronnie also promised to find her information on Carol, excusing the chaos, and Sophia had only let her go because she believed that Ronnie really would return.

And Ronnie did finally return after five minutes or five hours, both feeling approximately the same to Sophia as she followed Ronnie, a sweaty piece of paper clutched in her palm that theoretically was a prescription that she was supposed to get filled.

Ronnie told her that Carol was fine, that she could see her soon, and that they needed insurance information. Sophia dismissed all of what the woman said after the fact that Carol was fine and she could see her soon, needing first to contact her family member.

When Sophia dialed the number to the shop she held her breath. She smiled nervously at one of the women that was watching her with some strange look of suspicion and scanned the area for Ronnie again.

When Daryl picked up she was thankful. She wasn't sure exactly how something like this would work, since she'd never been in a car accident, but the last thing she wanted was someone from services being called and showing up because of her very serious fuck up in this situation.

Daryl was hesitant at first when she asked him to come and pick her up, but she finally got him to understand that she wasn't sure, at least at the moment, where Carol was and when she'd get to see her. He needed to at least be there in case she had to leave the hospital for some reason.

Sophia kept her mouth pressed close to the phone and her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep any nosy bystanders from listening and she tried to explain to Daryl that she would be looking for him but if anyone asked he needed to be her father. She wasn't sure how much he had understood through her muffled talking, but he'd finally disconnected and said he would come.

Sophia hung up the phone then and waited awkwardly by the desk for Ronnie to come and escort her to wherever she needed to go to see Carol or for Daryl to show up and wait for her, whichever was going to come first in this situation.

She fought back, the entire time she waited, the desire to cry over what had happened and the cold fear creeping up inside of her over what was bound to happen now that everything had blown up in her face.

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When Daryl got to the hospital he found Sophia fairly easily. The girl had a bandage on her forehead and some small cuts and scratches on her face, but she looked relatively unharmed. He hadn't gotten much information out of her while she'd been on the phone and much of that was owing to the fact that it sounded like she was talking to him from down a hallway.

Still, apparently she needed someone to come and pick her up because there had been some kind of accident...and at this hour Daryl was at the shop with Wren and Merle, but neither of them were sober enough to make it anywhere without another accident taking place. Merle only had to stumble his drunk ass to their tin can mansion while Wren would likely sit outside and smoke while he waited for Nellie to come and haul his ass home.

"What the fuck happened?" Daryl asked as he reached Sophia. He hoped she wasn't going to cry, even though it looked like she would, because he wasn't any good with that shit and he didn't feel like he even knew what the hell to say to the girl if she was going to come unravelled.

"I…I guess I ran a stoplight…I stopped but not in time," Sophia said. Her voice was odd to Daryl and he wished they had some other way to communicate out of fear that forcing her to speak was going to force her into shedding the tears he didn't want to deal with.

"Where's ya Ma?" Daryl asked.

Sophia shook her head.

"I'm waiting. They said she's fine…they're putting her in a room somewhere…but I feel like I've been waiting forever. I don't know if they don't take me seriously or they keep forgetting me…or they're not telling me everything…" Sophia said.

Daryl regarded her and reached out, putting his hand between her shoulder blades and walking her toward a desk.

"Need ta see someone," Daryl said. The nurse looked at him, almost rolling her eyes, and he made a face at her. He was filthy from being at the shop and perhaps that was off-putting to her pristine self, but he hadn't exactly been given ample warning that he was going to be expected to go to the hospital and help stave off the possible nervous breakdown of a kid.

"Who do you need to see?" The woman asked, fiddling with the computer next to her.

"Carol McAlister," Daryl said. He felt like for one reason or another he'd looked the woman's phone number up enough times in regard to Sophia that he could have almost recited that for her if she needed it. "They was in a wreck. This here's her daughter. Need ta find out what room she's in," Daryl said, offering out all the information that he had.

"And who are you?" The nurse asked.

"He's my dad!" Sophia shot quickly.

Daryl looked at her and she seemed to be pleading at him with her eyes not to say anything. He decided that there wasn't much harm in the lie as long as it got them the information that they needed and got Sophia out of his hair and into the care of someone who knew what the fuck they were doing.

The nurse seemed to take forever to get the information and she said something to Daryl about insurance information that he could only respond to by pretending that he'd been struck deaf and dumb and shaking his head adamantly.

Somehow, though, they acquired a room number and Daryl followed Sophia who, for whatever head injury her bandage indicated, moved through the hospital with much more assurance than he did. When they reached the room, Daryl gingerly stepped in behind Sophia and leaned against the wall.

Carol was in the bed, a doctor was talking to her, and Sophia walked in, almost appearing as out of place in the situation as Daryl felt.

"Oh my God, Sophia!" Carol said as she turned her head and noticed the girl coming in. "Are you OK? What happened, sweetheart?"

Daryl watched as Sophia regarded the woman wide eyed, almost like an owl. She nodded her head a little.

"Fine…just hit my head…the window cut it," Sophia said, her voice low.

Daryl turned his attention to glancing around the room and ignoring the conversation that took place between the people there. He despised hospitals and he was beginning to wonder in the instant exactly how he had landed in this situation. He didn't know what he was expected to do or when he would be allowed to leave. He only came back around to the scene at hand when the doctor brushed past where he was and disappeared out of the door.

Daryl glanced back and Carol was talking to Sophia, though the girl maintained several feet of distance as though she'd be burned if she stepped any closer.

"Daryl," Carol said, catching Daryl's attention. He bit his thumb and straightened up from his position leaning against the wall.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Thank you so much for coming," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head at her. Part of her face was bandaged, the opposite side from Sophia's, and she was wearing one of the hospital gowns that she was holding up with her hand because it appeared not to be tied over her right shoulder, which was also bandaged, as it should be.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Daryl said. He glanced around a moment before his eyes settled back on her. "Ya need anythin'? Everythin' alright?" He asked.

He looked at Sophia, but she was no help at all. The girl seemed lost in her own world for the moment and still looked like she was on the verge of the tears she'd been fighting down at the desk. He didn't want to prod her at all because at some point the dam always gave way in women.

Carol smiled at him and nodded her head. She sighed and leaned back, making a face when she did.

"I'm going to call Jacqui," Carol said. "She can pick Sophia up…I've got surgery for my shoulder in the morning. It's minor…no big deal…should be out tomorrow evening or the next morning at the latest. Can you do me a favor though? Or Wren? Or Mac? I don't know who does these things…"

Daryl wondered if Carol was either in pain or on some kind of pain medication because she didn't look exactly like her head was keeping up with the rest of her. She kept closing her eyes and then refocusing on him. He'd never realized until now…now that he was trying to literally absorb information out of her brain instead of waiting for it to come out of her mouth, how blue her eyes were.

"What'cha need?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him.

"My purse…" she said. "It was in the car. I've got give them insurance information…I don't have it. It was in the seat with me."

Daryl frowned. It was going to take a little bit of work to find the car and hope that the purse was still in there, but Daryl didn't think it was an impossible mission. Tootie was likely the one called to the wreck and he never took anything out of the cars unless no one ever claimed them…then of course it was free game to anyone.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl said. "I can call Tootie. Probably ain't no big thing."

Carol sighed.

"I'd appreciate it!" She said.

Daryl looked over at Sophia who was struck silent in the situation.

"I can take her to ya friend's house if ya want," Daryl said. "If she knows where she lives…"

Carol looked at Sophia.

"Sophia, sweetheart, do you want Daryl to take you to Jacqui's or you want to wait for her?" Carol asked. "I can call her now and tell her you're coming or ask her to come by here…she'll take you to the house for your things."

Sophia shrugged.

"I don't care," she said.

Carol looked at Daryl and Daryl thought she looked like she was asking him for some sort of action or advice or something, but he had nothing. Kids weren't his area. After a moment she sighed.

"Do you mind waiting a minute? Just so I can call her?" Carol asked.

Daryl shook his head. He waited for a moment, watching Sophia, and only moved when he noticed that Carol was struggling a little in her attempt to pull the phone closer to her. He moved around the bed and handed her the phone. She smiled at him and thanked him.

Sophia walked around the room a moment and settled down in a chair that was over to the side. She pulled her feet up in the chair and rested her chin on her knees, watching as Carol had a quick conversation with the woman. When she hung up the phone, Daryl put it back where it was.

He stared at Carol and she looked back at him.

"Jacqui says she can take care of her…" Carol said. "I told her you would drop Sophia off over there, so she'll be expecting you."

Daryl nodded, nipping at his cuticle.

"S'fine," he said. "I can run her over there. I'll see if I can't get ahold of Tootie too. He might can tell me 'bout gettin' ta ya car."

"I really appreciate this…" Carol said.

Daryl shook his head.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said. "I hope ya shoulder gets better."

Carol smiled and nodded.

"It will, it's not a big deal. Just aggravated an old injury," she said.

Daryl didn't say anything else because he didn't know what else to say. He felt out of place and he felt awkward. He stepped as quickly as he could across the room after nodding again at Carol and waited outside the door while Carol exchanged some words he didn't listen to with Sophia.

After a few minutes Sophia came walking through the door and didn't stop to wait for him. She continued on her path and he jogged to catch up with her and follow her out to the parking lot. Apparently she didn't have a lot to say right now, and Daryl wasn't one to force people into talking. He preferred to get out of most conversations when it was possible. He could only hope that she was at least willing to tell him where the hell this woman lived, otherwise there was no damn telling how long his evening was going to be.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Here you go, a little update as we move along.**

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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It wasn't that Sophia hated Jacqui. That would have been an overstatement. She'd met the woman probably a dozen times in short spurts and she had nothing against her, truth be told. Jacqui seemed like a nice enough woman and she seemed to get along with Carol though most of their interests seemed to lie in work. Sophia wasn't really sure if that was owing more to the fact that Jacqui didn't want to be really good friends with Carol or if it was owing to the fact that Carol could be, for lack of a better word, distant when it came to other people. Even Sophia had seen it, but she didn't judge Carol for it at all. She understood that sometimes distance felt like the safest thing possible.

Sophia barely slept that night at Jacqui's. Daryl had dropped her off, excused himself quickly to try and get ahold of Tootie, and that had been that. Jacqui wanted to fawn over Sophia and Sophia wasn't having it. She didn't feel that way about the woman. She didn't want to talk about the accident with her either. What was there to talk about? She'd failed at driving and could have killed herself…could have killed Carol. And now she was at Jacqui's house waiting to see what happened next and Carol was in a hospital waiting to have some kind of surgery to fix the mess that she'd made.

Sophia didn't know what Carol was going to do about this when the surgery was said and done. She didn't know if she could believe what the woman had told her just before she'd gone to get Daryl in the hallway and head to Jacqui's house.

Carol had said she wasn't mad. She said that the surgery wasn't "a big deal" and that it wasn't Sophia's fault. It didn't "change" anything…

But it was Sophia's fault and Sophia knew that. She'd stopped the car in the intersection. She'd caused the wreck. If Carol really wasn't mad at her, then she'd be mad enough at herself for what she'd done. She knew one thing, she was done with driving. She'd hitchhike if she had to places, but she wasn't driving and killing people.

Sophia couldn't believe that Carol really wasn't mad. She didn't understand how she could do something so incredibly stupid and Carol just insist that it was fine. It made Sophia wonder when it would finally dawn on the woman that she was mad and she had every right to be. Sophia had fucked up a lot of things in her life, but looking back this was probably her biggest one.

She hated that she hurt Carol. She hadn't done it on purpose, but that didn't mean that it wasn't done and done. She'd hurt her. Now, if she wanted to, she could add to her list of things that right shoulder was injured, and that was thanks to her.

Sophia sighed and flopped around in the bed that Jacqui had offered her. It smelled funny in Jacqui's house…like the smell of stale potpourri and something a little like mulberry. Sophia hated the smell of mulberry.

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Sophia sat at the table moving her oatmeal around more than anything. She really hated oatmeal. She'd had a foster mother once, when she was younger, that had believed that children needed to eat pretty much nothing but oatmeal and she had a bunch of flavors of it. All of them had made Sophia gag, but she'd choked the prison quality mush down to satisfy the woman. Now she hated oatmeal.

"Not hungry?" Jacqui asked.

Sophia looked at her. It wasn't Jacqui's fault that she fucked up and nearly killed Carol. She knew it wasn't the woman's fault, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to be out of there and have the woman leave her alone.

Sophia shook her head. Jacqui looked at her, her eyebrows wrinkling in concern and nodded her head a little.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jacqui asked.

Sophia decided she hated that question. She shook her head. The crease between Jacqui's eyebrows deepened and she nodded her head a little again.

"I'll drive you to school and I'll be there to pick you up, so don't take the bus," Jacqui offered. "I thought I could take you by the hospital. You can see Carol and we can find out when they're going to try to send her home."

Sophia looked at her and nodded a little. She wanted to see Carol again…after the surgery. She wanted to make sure that everything was alright. She wanted to know if she was still not angry about this or if a night had brought her to her senses.

"I want to stay at Carol's tonight," Sophia said.

Jacqui looked at her like she'd just informed her that she had the full intent of eating green cheese directly from the moon.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Sophia. She's probably not going home tonight," Jacqui said.

Sophia shrugged.

"I'm almost sixteen," Sophia said. "I can handle a night by myself. I'm not going to burn the house down."

Sophia realized with her recent track record that might not sound entirely comforting to the woman. Jacqui wrinkled her brow again, making a face.

"We'll talk about it when we find out what's going on? OK?" Jacqui asked. "You need to get ready now or you're going to be late for school."

Sophia looked down at herself. She was as ready as she was getting for school. She really didn't give a shit about going to school in the first place and she certainly wasn't trying to impress anyone with her scarred up forehead and the fact that she hadn't exactly been able to sleep that well. They could all kiss her ass.

"I think I'm pretty fucking ready," Sophia said. She didn't even look at Jacqui to see the disapproval that she was sure was on her face. "Language" is simply what Carol would have said.

"I'm going to talk to your principal," Jacqui said. "It's best to let her know that you might be a little distracted today."

Sophia made a face at the woman.

"I don't need you doing anything for me. I don't need you talking to my principal either. I'm fine," Sophia protested. "I don't even give a shit what's going on."

Sophia knew it wasn't true, but she didn't care. She didn't need Jacqui making those big "do you want to talk about it" eyes at her and running around the high school telling her principal and all her teachers that she almost killed Carol and probably felt bad about it if she had even a piece of a soul left. She didn't need anyone staring at her any more than they already did in that stupid school. And she didn't need a babysitter either.

Sophia got up and got her bookbag, pulling her shoes on. Jacqui sighed and waited to walk her out the door.

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After school Sophia sat in the car with her arms crossed as they made their way toward the hospital.

"So you're just not going to talk to me at all?" Jacqui asked.

"Thanks to you I got to spend part of my day sitting with the guidance counselor who hasn't brushed her teeth since her pet velociraptor died, smells like old ass cheese, and thinks I'm mentally challenged…what do you think?" Sophia said.

Jacqui sighed.

"I didn't know she was going to call you in there, OK? I just thought that they might know why you were a little distracted," Jacqui reasoned.

Sophia stared out the window.

"I'm not distracted," she said. "And you don't know how to mind your own damn business."

"Sophia," Jacqui started, "either you're going to get control of your attitude or I'm not taking you to the hospital. Carol's not going to feel well today and the last thing she's going to need is you prancing around on your high horse."

Sophia hadn't really wanted to hit very many people in her life, but she sort of felt like popping Jacqui a good one right in the nose. She didn't though, she crossed her arms and gritted her teeth. She'd talk to Carol herself when they got there and maybe she would have to have a damn babysitter anymore. Carol could go home and Sophia could figure out how to make this up to her. Right now she'd rather stay with Wren and Nellie than stay with Jacqui and have her flapping around the school pointing out to all the damn teachers there that they needed to look at Sophia like she was extra weird today.

When they finally got to the hospital, Sophia stood quietly to the side and waited for Jacqui to inquire about information. Finally they made their way to Carol's room. Jacqui went right in, but Sophia lagged behind her for the moment, her heart pounding.

When she came in the room, Carol was sitting up in the bed, her eyes closed. She opened her eyes, though, and blinked a few times, turning stiffly to look at Jacqui who was closer to her before she tried to look at Sophia. Seeing it, Sophia stepped forward quicker so that she wouldn't have to turn her head to look over the bandaged shoulder.

"Hey sweetheart," Carol said. She smiled and her voice sounded thicker than it normally did, but Sophia was surprised. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, but this wasn't exactly it. Sophia stepped forward, coming to the edge of the bed.

"Are you OK?" Sophia asked.

Carol smiled.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. I told you I would be. Come around to the other side…let me see your head," Carol said.

Sophia sighed. She walked around to the other side of the bed and didn't protest when she felt Carol run her finger across her forehead, just above where her stitches were.

"Did they give you something? Does your head hurt?" Carol asked.

Sophia shook her head at her. So she was going to ask her if her head hurt? Sophia could point out that Carol was wearing quite the war wounds on her own face where she'd undoubtedly made contact with some of the broken glass. She didn't say anything though.

"Does it hurt?" Sophia asked, finally.

Carol shook her head a little.

"No, it's fine," she said. "I'll go home in the morning and in a few days it'll be just fine."

Carol reached out and rubbed her knuckle against Sophia's cheek for a moment, smiling at her, and then she settled her hand on her shoulder, rubbing her arm. Sophia's first instinct was to back away, but she didn't have the heart to do so. She stayed and let her absently rub her arm, realizing after a moment that she didn't mind the touch as much as she would have thought.

Sophia glanced in Jacqui's direction.

"Could I talk to you?" Sophia asked Carol.

She looked at the woman and wasn't sure she believed a word she said about everything being fine and her shoulder not hurting. Carol looked almost like she was dozing off as she rubbed at her shoulder and she sucked in her breath a little at the sound of Sophia's voice.

"Sure, sweetheart," Carol said.

Sophia looked at Jacqui standing over to the side again. Carol followed her line of vision.

"Jacqui," Carol said. The woman turned, jerking a little. She'd been watching whatever was on the television.

"You need something?" Jacqui asked.

"Could you see about getting me something to drink besides water, maybe? Some juice or something?" Carol asked. Jacqui watched her for a moment, but nodded.

"I think I can find something," Jacqui said. "It might take me a few minutes, though…"

Sophia didn't miss that the woman winked at Carol. She didn't care if Jacqui knew that she wanted to be alone to talk to Carol or not. As long as it go the woman out the room, Sophia was fine with it.

"OK," Carol said when Jacqui left the room. She pushed Sophia's hair back over her shoulder. "What is it?"

Sophia wished she'd actually thought ahead of time about everything she wanted to say. She edged a little closer to the bed, though, and leaned in more toward Carol.

"I don't want to stay at Jacqui's tonight. I want to stay at the house," Sophia said.

Carol made a face.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going home until tomorrow," Carol said.

Sophia sighed.

"I'm almost sixteen, Carol! I can handle one night alone! Besides…I can come in the morning to pick you up. I can get Wren or someone to come with me. They're stronger than Jacqui and they can help you to the car…" Sophia said. "Daryl and Merle are just down the street. I can call if anything goes wrong, but nothing's going to go wrong."

Carol made a face again.

"I don't know, Sophia…you'd be alone," Carol said.

"For one night!" Sophia pleaded. "I swear I'm not going to run away. I promise…I'm not going to do anything exciting at all. I'll catch up on my homework for next week…that's it. I can get your room ready for you. Please? I won't even cook…I'll order pizza or Chinese or something."

Carol made a slight growling noise.

"If you stay by yourself then you stay in the house and you keep the doors locked. You don't let anyone in except Jacqui and you call her if you need something. Do you have school tomorrow?" Carol asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sophia shook her head.

"It's Friday," she said.

Carol sighed.

"Don't call that shop crowd," Carol said. "Friday night…you know none of them are going to be fit to help you with anything tonight. You promise me that you'll call Jacqui if you need anything and you'll stay in the house."

Sophia nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere. I can come and get you in the morning," Sophia said.

"Hand me my purse," Carol said. "It's on the chair over there. You're going to need money…"

Sophia found the purse and brought it to the bed.

"I've got money," she said.

Carol looked at her.

"Sophia, I'm not letting you spend your money buying dinner," Carol said.

"I'll get it," Sophia said, deciding not to argue and to go through the purse herself.

"I want you to write down Jacqui's number and the hospital number just in case," Carol said.

Sophia dug around in the purse. She realized, since it was in her hands, that Daryl must have found it.

"Daryl found it in the car…" she said.

"He brought it up here last night," Carol said.

Jacqui came in a moment later while Sophia was busy taking down the numbers that Carol was reciting to her. The woman crossed the room, near Sophia, and put two cups down on the small rolling table not far from where Sophia was writing.

"I found apple juice," Jacqui said, "and I brought you some ice. Did you need me to go look for something else?" She asked.

"I think I've got all I need," Carol said. Sophia glanced at her. "Jacqui, Sophia's going to stay at the house tonight. Do you think you could take her by there? Be on call if she needs something?"

"Do you think it's a good idea for her to be alone?" Jacqui asked.

Sophia almost growled to herself. She focused, instead, on folding the piece of paper she had with the numbers into the smallest possible piece of paper that she could make.

"I think it should be fine," Carol said. "I'll call you in the morning and we'll talk about what's going on then."

"You want to rest some?" Jacqui asked.

"Yeah…" Carol said. "I think that would be a good idea."

Sophia wanted to protest. She wasn't really ready to leave. She didn't have much of a choice, though and if Jacqui was ready to go, then that meant she had to leave too. She certainly couldn't drive herself.

Sophia must have made a face, though she hadn't meant to.

"Hey…" Carol said. Sophia looked at her. Carol smiled at her. "You have a good night, OK? I'll be home tomorrow."

Sophia nodded a little. She wasn't sure she'd have a good night, exactly, but at least she wouldn't be at Jacqui's house engaged in the never ending camp counselor bullshit that Jacqui seemed fond of.

"You going to sleep?" Sophia asked Carol.

Carol nodded a little.

"I think I am. They're nice here. They give you lots of medicine so you don't even know too much when you're awake," Carol said. She chuckled. "I'm sure I'll sleep just fine."

Jacqui said her goodbyes quickly and was headed toward the door, but Sophia hesitated a moment. She started toward the foot of the bed to walk around and then she turned back around.

"Would it be OK…" Sophia started. She could already feel her breathing picking up just at the thought that she dared to be as bold as she felt at the moment. "Could I hug you?"

Carol smiled at her and reached her left arm somewhat toward her.

"Of course, sweetheart," Carol said.

Sophia came around the bed and tried to hug Carol as gently as possible, trying to figure out how someone hugs and, at the same time, completely avoids the right side of another person.

It probably wasn't the best hug in the world by any means, but Sophia sank into it, feeling Carol's arm go around her. It really seemed, at least for right now, and maybe with the drugs, that Carol wasn't mad at her at all.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Carol said when Sophia finally pulled apart to join Jacqui who was walking back and forth like a tin soldier just outside the door.

"Goodnight," Sophia said.

She didn't say anything else. She wasn't really sure if she could say anything else at the moment and Sophia didn't trust herself to try. She walked as quickly as she could out of the room and headed in the direction of the elevators so that she could get in Jacqui's car and get her things to go back to the house.

Carol would come home tomorrow and Sophia would call first thing in the morning to see if one of the men she worked with would be willing to help. She didn't know how much help Carol might need, but Sophia didn't believe that everything would be just one hundred percent and she felt like Jacqui was too thin and frail to help her with anything if Carol really needed assistance.

She could get the bed ready tonight for Carol…wash the sheets while she ate pizza and caught up on homework. Carol liked clean sheets, and coming home to them would be the least that Sophia could do. She could do a few other things around the house too…try to make sure it was nice for when Carol got there. Maybe it would be nice enough that Carol wouldn't decide…once it was all said and done and the drugs wore off…that she was really a lot more pissed off about this situation than she thought.


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: OK, here's a little something to keep us moving along. It's a little longer than usual, but I wanted to get to a certain point with this chapter and I made it. **

**I'm going to try to get something else out today, but I'm not sure if it'll be for this story or one of the others. We'll see what happens. As always, thank you for your comments and support so far on this story. It's very much something that I'm playing with. The plan is there, but it's a little different still than anything that I've done so far, so we'll see how it all works out! **

**I hope that you enjoy! Please review if you feel so inclined. I love hearing what you think! **

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Carol had somehow thought that Jacqui was going to argue with Sophia enough, or at least insist enough, that she would be coming with her to pick her up from the hospital, but that hadn't been the case at all. From the few conversations that Carol had struggled to have with both of them, through a mind that she felt was uncomfortably clouded with a pain medication that was a strength she wasn't familiar or wholly comfortable with, Carol essentially figured out that Sophia had said she had it covered and Jacqui hadn't bothered to investigate any further into the matter before throwing her hands up and wishing her the best of luck.

Jacqui was a friend to Carol in the loosest of terms, perhaps, but she was about all the friend that Carol really had. Ed had kept her away from people so long that she'd almost forgotten how to interact with them once he was gone and she was given the chance again.

Jacqui worked with her, and so they'd had that connection. It wasn't much of a connection, though. They shared a little conversation here and a little there, but it didn't mean that Jacqui was really the kind of friend that was "always there" for Carol and Carol wasn't the same for Jacqui. Carol really couldn't expect too terribly much from the woman based on their past.

Jacqui had been excited when she'd learned over the phone that Carol was getting Sophia. She loved babies and she doted on all the ones that ever got brought in by people stopping through at the library. So in the moment she'd offered all the support she could to Carol, insisting that she could help her with getting her little one settled in and help her through navigating the murky and dark waters of new motherhood.

But when Sophia had turned out to be…well, Sophia…Jacqui's enthusiasm had turned more into wondering what was wrong with Carol and why she hadn't just left the girl where she was and wished her a good life with someone else. Someone who wanted a troubled teenager.

Jacqui was nice to Sophia when they had to interact, it wasn't that she'd ever been unkind to the girl, but Carol knew now that Jacqui wasn't the kind of friend that was going any extra mile to help her with Sophia…and apparently she wasn't the kind of friend who wanted to give up part of their Saturday to make sure Sophia and Carol ended up safely at home for whatever this recuperation was going to entail.

Carol couldn't be mad at Sophia though. She wasn't mad at her at all, actually. The wreck had been an honest mistake and everyone made those. The shoulder wasn't Sophia's fault. It wasn't even the wreck's fault. Ed had done damage to both her shoulders more than once and apparently lack of ever getting that professionally looked at, compounded with the impact from the wreck, simply meant that it was time to pay the piper.

And Carol knew that Sophia was horrified. It was written all over the girl's face ever time she'd seen her. Sophia seemed to see the wreck as some epic and horrible disaster. Carol was just glad that neither of them were seriously injured and she'd found out that no one in the truck that had hit them was injured either, so in the grand scheme of things it hadn't been a real tragedy.

And she was going home, at least, so there was that. Though she hadn't really imagined that she'd be doing it with Sophia and Daryl, who apparently was the only one on a Saturday either willing or able to come and get her with the girl.

When she'd been released, Carol was happy to see that she had a folder full of instructions to read over. She was typically better at taking things in that she could read than in just listening to them, and whatever they had her own had her to the point that she felt like reasoning wasn't a skill she was in full possession of. Between the pain she was trying to pretend she didn't feel, and the medicine trying to get her not to notice it, Carol felt like she was turning herself over completely to the trust and care of a sixteen year old girl and her unlikely sidekick…a man who obviously knew his way around cars but might not have much of a clue how to take care of anyone.

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Daryl wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten suckered into this one, but it had happened. When Sophia had called, begging for assistance, the whole shop crew had kind of regarded one another. Merle was clearly not a candidate since Daryl didn't think he'd done anything delicately his whole life. Wren was so hung over from his escapades with Nellie the night before that he really wasn't in the shape he needed to be in to help anyone with much of anything. He'd actually used his size as an excuse, though, insisting that Sophia would be the one that was most physically able to support the woman.

When it had come down to a contest between Mac and Daryl, Daryl already knew he'd lost the round. Mac was a strong man and he was fairly fit for his age, but his favorite line was always "age outranks beauty" and that had been how he'd sealed this one as well.

So Daryl had gotten in his truck, picked Sophia up, and kept her company while they listened to a doctor go on and on about what this woman could and couldn't do, how long she could and couldn't do it, what the instructions for her prescription were, something about a nurse and therapy…Daryl felt like they'd been there four hours just listening to the man talk. What he got out of it was that it was a good damn thing Merle didn't come because he'd have stolen the woman's medication, and essentially she wasn't fit to do a damn thing for herself for at least four or five days.

That hadn't been part of the deal, though, and all Daryl had to worry about was getting the woman in the truck, dropping her off at her house, and wishing Sophia the best of damn luck.

Getting Carol into the truck had been a bit more of a challenge than Daryl though it would be. He hadn't thought very carefully about what shoulder surgery might mean, and he hadn't thought about the fact that it would have been a good idea to borrow Mac's shitty little car instead of trying to hoist the woman up into his truck.

She'd been a sport about it, though, and she'd tried to help him and insisted she was fine. She claimed her shoulder was fine and it wasn't hurt or anything. Daryl wasn't sure who the hell she was trying to convince since he'd heard the doctor's speech and he'd seen pain painted all over her despite her insistence to the contrary.

Getting her out of the truck proved a little bit easier, and once they were at the house, Sophia rushed ahead to open the door and get everything ready.

"Ya alright?" Daryl asked. Even as he asked it he thought he might have kicked himself in the nuts for the same question if he had been in Carol's shoes.

She was pale, covered in a think layer of sweat, and there was pain in her eyes…that unmistakable dullness of pain. She wasn't alright and he was an ass for even asking it.

She forced a smile at him and nodded.

"I'm fine," she said. "I think…I just need to maybe sit for a little while," Carol said.

"Yeah, come on," Daryl said. "We'll take ya inside. Sophia's gettin' your bed all ready for you."

He walked her inside and Sophia was nearly crawling out of her skin with trying to figure out what to do. Daryl stuck close to Carol as they went to her bedroom, figuring that from the jostling he'd accidentally given her and the meds she was hopped up on, it wouldn't be too surprising and really just par for the course if she passed out cold on the way to the bed.

She didn't, though, and she eased somewhat gratefully onto the bed and adjusted herself, leaning back against the mountain of pillows that Sophia had been constructing.

Carol sighed a little once she was seated and Daryl stepped out of the way for Sophia who was trying to make her comfortable. He assumed his work here was done, but he wasn't exactly sure how to get out of the room and out of the house in the proper fashion.

"Do you need anything?" Sophia asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Thank you…both of you," she said.

Daryl nodded in response, not sure what else to say. He wasn't used to really be thanked for anything and it embarrassed him when someone did thank him for something he'd done.

"I'm going to make lunch," Sophia said. She turned to Daryl. "Can you go to the drug store and fill the prescription for me?"

Daryl frowned. He hadn't realized that his job wasn't done yet. Sophia gave him the same look she gave Wren just before she threw a wrench at him the week before, though, and he knew better than to wait and see what she might do to him.

He sighed and nodded his head.

"Yeah," he said. "Ain't no big deal."

Sophia smiled then.

"You can eat lunch with us when you get back," Sophia said. "I'm making vegetable soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

She turned her attention back to Carol and Daryl could tell that Sophia wanted to do something, but she really wasn't sure what she wanted to do.

"Do you want to get in the bed?" Sophia asked the woman that was sitting on top of the cover.

"No," Carol said. "I'm really fine. You've done enough, sweetheart."

"I'm going to get Daryl the prescription then and start the soup. I brought you some books," Sophia picked up a pile of books off the floor and put them on the bed beside Carol. She moved the television remote from the nightstand to Carol's right and put it beside her left hand. "And there's the remote," Sophia said. "If you need anything, just let me know. I'm going to see if I can find a bell or something."

Daryl turned then and started back toward the front of the house, leaving Sophia with Carol. He had no idea how this was going to work. It appeared, from the snatches of things he'd heard from the doctor, that the woman couldn't use that arm at all for three days and he couldn't imagine how Sophia intended to do everything for her during that time span…not to mention if there was more of a recovery time after that…and he didn't really imagine that she was going to go from not using one arm to fully recovered overnight.

Daryl waited for Sophia outside while he stood in the driveway and smoked a cigarette. The house needed some basic maintenance, but it wasn't a bad house. It could use a coat or two of paint more than anything to at least look like something. He walked a bit and saw a bucket in the edge of what was theoretically supposed to be a flowerbed and there were cigarette butts in it. He knew Sophia smoked, but he didn't know about Carol.

Sophia came out the door a few minutes later, the piece of paper in her hand. She lit a cigarette before she bounded down the stairs toward him.

"Here," she said, holding out the prescription and a blank check. "Carol signed the check already."

Daryl took at and looked at it, chuckling a little.

"Pretty damn dumb ta give somebody ya don't know a blank check," he said, taking a drag.

Sophia wrinkled her brow at him.

"Don't you go being an asshole when I went out on a limb and said I trusted your ass," Sophia said.

Daryl shook his head.

"I ain't, but that don't mean other people wouldn't. If ya ever trap Merle into doin' some shit like this let me give ya heads up…don't let him near the drugs an' ya sure as shit don't give his ass a blank check," Daryl said. "He might be my fuckin' brother but he'd take that woman in there for a ride in a heartbeat."

Sophia sighed.

"Can you do this for me and not be a dick?" She asked.

Daryl realized that Sophia really cared about this. He didn't know if it was guilt eating her up about the damn wreck in the first place or if she really gave a shit about the woman.

"These drugs," Daryl said. "They're hard shit. Ya could probably give her less than half a' what they fuckin' got prescribed for her an' she could do more shit on her own. Head won't be in the fuckin' clouds."

Sophia scrunched her face up at him again with the look like she would hit him with a wrench if it was handy.

"I wrecked her car, Daryl…I fucked her shoulder up. I all but killed her ass. I'm going to at least give her the damn medicine like the doctor said," Sophia spat.

Daryl chuckled at the anger and frustration that was radiating off of the girl.

"Take it easy, Soph," Daryl said. "I'ma get'cha damn pills for ya, but how the hell ya reckon ya gon' take care a' someone? Huh? Ya can't stay stuck up under her ass all damn day. Ya gotta fuckin' go ta school come Monday mornin'. Ya in over ya head's what I think. Ya best go in there an' dig through that there pile a' shit the doctor sent an' call the number ta get her a damn nurse like the guy said."

Sophia sighed.

"I'll find her a nurse," Sophia said. "But I'm taking care of her when I'm not in school. I owe that to her. You can tell Mac I'm on leave until further notice. I figure at least a week."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ya care about her more than ya like ta let on, don't'cha Wendy?" He asked, stretching out and stressing the name Wendy.

Sophia frowned at him.

"I'm just making up for what the hell I did," Sophia said. "It doesn't mean anything else but that, so don't go being all sappy."

Daryl nodded and flicked his cigarette butt into the bucket. Sophia wasn't finished with hers, but he figured she'd be done soon enough. He folded up the pieces of paper and stuck them in his pocket.

"Yeah…well," he said. "Whatever they give her this mornin's gonna be wearin' the hell off soon enough. I'll go get this shit for ya now."

He turned and walked over to his truck, climbing in. As he cranked the truck, he watched as Sophia stood staring off as though she were looking at something very interesting, but there really wasn't anything in the area to look at.

For as much as it irritated the shit out of Daryl, the girl had a way of growing on people and she was growing on him. Maybe it was because he could see something in her…in the way she acted and the way she interacted with others…maybe it was something that she said…or maybe it was just some damn flicker of light behind her eyes, but Daryl felt like he knew her. And not like he knew her name was Sophia and she lived in this house with a woman who took care of her but wasn't her Mama. It was more like he really fucking knew the kid.

Daryl couldn't remember Wendy's story, not really at all, and he couldn't remember Peter Pan's story either. From what he did remember, though, there was some shit about not wanting to grow up. He thought maybe they didn't have parents…or their parents didn't give a shit about them…he wasn't sure.

What he was sure of, though, was that their Wendy thought she was some kind of Lost Boy as Wren and Mac called her. Looking at her now, staring out across the yard, wearing some kind of expression that Daryl couldn't quite pinpoint, Daryl realized she wasn't a boy, but she was just as fucking lost as any of the rest of them were.

Sophia said time and time again that she didn't never have no parents worth speaking of, and Daryl knew that feeling. Sophia wanted to believe, though, that she was immune to everyone. She thought she was a hard little nut…and maybe she was in comparison to some of the pretty ass little princesses he'd seen prancing around…but for some reason, Daryl felt like this woman meant something to Sophia. It was something maybe Sophia didn't even know about, but Daryl had all mind that Sophia would punch him the throat in a heartbeat if she thought it would help Carol.

So Daryl decided that if it meant so damn much to the kid, he'd do whatever the hell he could to help her out. He imagined if he was her and he'd finally gotten someone he gave a damn about at her age, he'd have been pretty well willing to do whatever the hell he had to do to fix them, especially if he'd been the one to get their asses hit by a dually. He backed out of the driveway and headed toward town so he could bring her back the prescription before what the hospital gave the woman wore off completely and she wasn't so good at faking that she didn't give a damn about her shoulder.

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Sophia got the soup ready and moved the pot off the burner. She'd already made the three sandwiches and had them stacked on a plate. She glanced at the clock and wondered what was taking Daryl so long. She didn't know how long it usually took for drug stores to fill prescriptions, admittedly she'd never waited on one before, but she felt like this was taking entirely too long.

She eased down the hall and into Carol's room. The television was on and playing low, but as soon as she stepped into view she could see that Carol's eyes were closed and she wasn't watching it at all.

Carol turned a little when Sophia came into the room.

"Hey sweetheart," Carol said. Sophia thought her voice sounded strained.

"Daryl's going to be back soon," Sophia said. She held up the pot and the metal spoon she'd brought from the kitchen. "I thought you could use this…you know, like an alarm or something…if you needed me."

Carol patted the bed on her left side, the side where nobody slept and where the books were lying unmoved from where Sophia had put them before. Sophia walked over and leaned over Carol, putting the pot and spoon there.

"Crawl up," Carol said. "You might as well until Daryl gets back."

Sophia hesitated, but she crossed around to the other side of the bed and tried to climb onto the bed without shaking it too much. She did notice that Carol winced a little.

"It's time for your pill," Sophia said, "but I guess they're taking a while…"

Carol smiled at her.

"It's fine, Sophia…really. The drug store in town is pretty slow with everything. It's not a big deal," Carol said.

"I'm sorry…" Sophia said. She wasn't really sure if she'd said it about three million times or she'd thought it all those times, but she felt like in the past couple of days that had been pretty much the only word that had circled around and around in her brain.

She didn't know how it was that Carol didn't hate her…and she didn't know if she could continue not to to hate her…but even if she changed her mind, Sophia felt like she deserved it.

"Sophia," Carol said. "I think you've done enough beating yourself up over this, OK? The wreck could have happened to anyone…even me. My shoulder was in for it anyway, and that wasn't your fault…so stop beating yourself over the head. It's not making either one of us feel any better."

Sophia bit her lip.

"I can take care of you, though…" Sophia said. "Bring you food and stuff until it's better."

Carol reached over and tapped Sophia on the hand with her fingertip.

"They have a nurse coming Monday morning," Carol said. "She'll get me up and at 'em, no worries. I appreciate you wanting to help me until then, though…just remember, you're a kid, not my nurse."

Sophia nodded a little. She didn't figure that Carol was going to give in too easily about this. The most she could do was simply do what she thought needed to be done and hope it was the right thing. Maybe after school the nurse person could help her out a little with figuring out what to do besides just keeping up with time for Carol to take medicine and bringing her whatever she could fix to eat.

Sophia heard the sound of knocking at the door and knew it was Daryl. She slipped off the bed and almost jogged through the house to let him in.

"You got it?" She asked, slinging open the door.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Finally. Asshole at the pharmacy was a dick about it an' had ta call the hospital 'cause I ain't thought ta bring no damn I.D. If anyone calls here askin' I'm Carol's fuckin' dad…unless they call from the hospital or some shit an' then I guess I'm your fuckin' dad."

Sophia laughed and took the bag from Daryl, ripping it open and quickly opening the bottle to dig out one of the pills.

"Soup's gotta go into bowls," Sophia said, "but the sandwiches are ready. We can eat in the room with Carol so she doesn't have to eat alone."

"Whatever," Daryl responded. He didn't look too enthusiastic about the whole thing, but Sophia wasn't used to seeing Daryl be enthusiastic about much if it didn't have to do with something down at the shop.

Sophia got the bowls ready and Daryl took a bowl and the plate of sandwiches. Sophia took the other two bowls. Once she'd passed into the bedroom, she pointed to the chair for Daryl to sit and put the food down on the dresser.

"I'm getting drinks and napkins," Sophia said. "Sweet tea OK with everyone?"

Carol nodded and Daryl just shrugged, balancing his bowl of soup on his lap. Sophia went back to the kitchen and fixed the cups, careful to juggle all three of them without spilling as she got back to the bedroom and got everything passed around.

"Doctor says you have to eat before you take your pill," Sophia said. She frowned as she watched Carol trying to eat the soup.

"Soph…" Daryl said after a minute. She glanced over at him. He was watching Carol too. "Go pour that soup into a mug…make it whole lot damn easier if she's gotta eat it with her left hand."

Sophia obeyed quickly, and Carol accepted the mug, thanking her. She smiled after she drank out of it.

"Hey, this is a lot easier," she said.

"Busted the fuck outta my damn hand one time," Daryl said. "Stupid ass Merle slammed a damn hood down on my hand one time. Broke the fucker an' I couldn't use it forever. Had ta learn ta do a lotta shit with my left hand. Ya get pretty damn creative, 'specially in my line a' work."

Carol chuckled.

"I bet so. I guess I'm going to learn, right?" She asked. "It won't be as bad when I'm not supposed to try to keep it still. At least that's only three days."

"Ain't like ya gon' be playin' no damn volleyball nor nothin' in three days, I don't reckon," Daryl said. "Wouldn't go gettin' too damn excited. When I got my hand out the damn cast they put it in I thought I was gonna be right as rain, but then I figured out it was gonna take me a long damn while 'fore my fingers worked like they used to."

"But it's better now?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Hell…yeah it's better. Still gets right damn stiff in the winter, but ain't too bad 'cause Wren an' Mac keeps electric heaters goin' in the shop," Daryl responded.

Sophia sat on the bed watching back and forth between the two of them. She couldn't remember either of them having had a long conversation before, but maybe injuries were like cars and they gave you plenty to talk about. She kept her eyes mostly on Carol and took the mug from her as soon as she'd obviously finished with the soup, passing her one of the sandwiches.

"The first time I hurt my shoulder was a while ago," Carol said. "It always got a little stiff with cold weather, but then again everything gets a little stiff with cold weather."

Daryl chuckled.

"Hell yeah it does," Daryl said.

Sophia rolled her eyes.

"What is this?" She asked. "The old folk's home?"

Carol laughed.

"Right now that's where I feel like I need to be," Carol said. "You might get lucky. You might not end up having those aches and pains. Just don't go slamming car hoods on your hands, OK?"

"That's a good damn piece of advice," Daryl said, cramming almost an entire half of the sandwich in his mouth.

"Or at least don't do it until I'm over this," Carol said. "I think one of us learning to improvise with everything is good. We don't need that much excitement around here."

"Gonna be a real good time…" Daryl said. "I guaran-damn-tee ya that ya never knew how much shit ya use ya right hand for. I don't envy ya none."

Sophia watched as Daryl stood up then, holding his bowl in one hand and dusting the other hand off on his pants.

"Food was good, Soph," Daryl said. "Best be gettin' my ass back 'fore them dumb fucks burn the damn buildin' down. I'll tell Mac ya gon' be back when he sees ya."

Sophia crawled off the bed and collected up her bowl and Carol's bowl. She wasn't done eating yet, so she left her sandwich there for the moment.

"I'm going to walk Daryl out," she said to Carol. "When I get back I'll give you your pill. Need anything before I go?"

Carol smiled a little and shook her head.

"I'm fine, take your time," she said.

Daryl turned before he left the bedroom.

"Good luck ta ya," he said. "Don't let Soph push ya 'round too much."

Carol smiled.

"I'll keep her in line," she said. "Thanks for everything."

Daryl shrugged a little and nodded in Carol's direction. Sophia had noticed him do it more than once when someone thanked him for anything at all. She wondered why it was that he seemed to get uptight whenever you thanked him for something, but it didn't seem to be his favorite thing in the world.

After Daryl had dropped his dishes off on the counter, he gestured at Sophia in response to her thanks for helping her. She closed the door behind him and quickly straightened the kitchen area a little.

It was Saturday, and she didn't really have anything pressing planned, so she figured she could keep Carol company. She gathered up the folder of information the doctor sent home and headed back in the bedroom to finish her sandwich and look over things she might be able to do to help Carol with her current one-handed situation. She figured some things could be difficult, but at least now she knew that Daryl had probably problem solved a few of them before…she could always annoy him if they couldn't figure out how to make something work.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Sorry it's taken me a few days to update here. I have to be in a certain frame of mind to write certain stories. That's one reason that I like to have so many that are different going at the same time. I'm able to write here and there depending on where I'm able to get my mind. This is one that takes a very particular frame of mind, so I had to wait for it to come around again.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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Carol could almost ignore the pain entirely. She'd had a lot of practice ignoring pain in her life…though her shoulder was reminding her that she had let herself get out of practice a little over the past years since Ed had been gone.

The pain wasn't really that bad though…it wasn't the worst part of the whole ordeal. The worst part of the whole ordeal was simply not being able to do what she needed to do or what she wanted to do. She was supposed to keep the stupid shoulder as still as possible until at least Monday when the nurse came. She wasn't sure exactly what to expect from the person that was coming…she didn't know anything about them…but she at least hoped they told her she could move it again. Then she could grit her teeth and bare it, but she could at least not feel as awkward trying to do everything.

By Sunday night she thought she might go insane from feeling restricted. Sophia was there and she was trying to be so helpful…trying to be so attentive…but it was something that Carol wasn't used to and she thought the attention might drive her crazy as quickly as not being able to use the shoulder would.

Carol felt like she was almost being sneaky and like she was betraying the girl. Sophia had brought her a pot and metal spoon from the kitchen, reasoning that it could serve as a bell or an alarm or something. She was supposed to beat the thing like some kind of metal drum if she needed anything. Sophia would come running at the harsh metallic sound ringing through the house.

The idea was that she would bring her things…water…her medicine…Carol wasn't sure where the girl would draw the line at helping her, and she wasn't wanting to test it. She'd been trying to sneak around herself. She could get up from the bed, and she could more or less maneuver herself back into her position. She was getting her own water from the bathroom when she was thirsty. She wasn't going to bother the girl for that.

She could take herself to the bathroom too. She wasn't an invalid and she wasn't going to submit herself to the indignity of asking for assistance from the girl. Getting in and out of her sweatpants was an ordeal, but she would suffer through it.

Carol hated her body. The last thing she wanted was for someone else to see it. Sophia didn't need to see anything more of her than she'd seen the day she'd watched her tend the wound on her leg. There were enough scars on her legs to be all that the girl needed to know about. It was bad enough for medical personnel to see it…and they'd probably seen it all before…but Sophia was just a young girl and Carol didn't want her gawking at the patchwork myriad of scars that Ed had decorated her body with. She could handle all the things on her own that would leave her exposed.

All that was required was a little bit of creativity, a little patience, and a little practice willing herself not to feel the pain.

She was also lying about the pills. Sophia kept up with the things to the point that Carol felt like the girl had some kind of alarm set somewhere. She'd appear in the doorway, a cup of water or tea in hand and something to eat…usually a sandwich. She wouldn't leave the room again until Carol had eaten whatever it was and then she'd give her the pain pill. In the beginning she'd stayed until Carol had swallowed it, asking over and over if there was anything that she could do…anything she could bring. After that she'd learned that Carol's answer was always going to be that she was fine and everything was fine, and so Sophia would give her the pill and then command her to ring the pot gong if she needed anything.

And then Carol would hide the pill in the antique jar on the nightstand that had, for as long as Carol had lived there, caught an array of buttons, pins, pennies, and anything else that was looking for a place to go that was out of sight and out of mind where it promised to stay until it was needed…though of course nothing that made it into the jar ever made it out again.

The same would be said for those pills. Carol took them sparingly. They made her loopy and they made it harder to accomplish the little tasks that she wasn't going to ask Sophia to do. Perhaps the pills were good for someone who wanted to be out of their head for days with someone waiting on them beck and call, but Carol couldn't stand the way they made her feel. She'd take the stark reality of the pain over the clouded false bliss of the pills.

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Sophia was actually happy to go to school on Monday morning. The nurse was coming that day and was supposed to stay while Sophia was at school, taking care of everything for Carol that she couldn't do herself.

Sophia thought the nurse was in for a rude awakening. She imagined that taking care of someone for any length of time could probably be a very annoying thing, but she'd learned in the past two days that what was worse than taking care of someone was trying to take care of someone who didn't want to be taken care of.

Sophia had flipped through the information that the doctor had provided about Carol's shoulder. It had things that she could and couldn't do as time went wearing on. How she was supposed to care for the shoulder…other things that Sophia assumed the nurse would go over with Carol today.

Except that until now it seemed that Carol never needed anything. Sophia brought her food and drinks and the pills that the doctor sent for her, but it was never because Carol asked for it, it was just because the clock told Sophia that it was time to deliver the things to her.

Sophia had honestly prepared herself for the worst when she found out Carol couldn't use her arm for a few days. She'd figured that she'd make up the accident to her by being an attentive nurse that helped her with literally everything she needed to do. In reality, though, she felt like she wasn't doing anything. She'd actually felt like some kind of detective trying to figure out what was going on. Sophia felt like she needed more help throughout the day and there wasn't a damn thing wrong with her!

So Sophia hoped that by the time she got home from school on Monday, and she met the nurse that would have spent some time with Carol, the person could solve some of the damn mystery for her and tell her what the hell she could do to make this whole thing better.

Whether it was because Sophia had something to focus on, or whether it was simply because luck would have it that the hours passed quickly, Monday was one of the shortest days that Sophia suffered through at the high school and she was one of the first ones on the bus leaving. When the bus dropped her off at the end of her road, she almost ran to the house, wondering what the nurse would tell her and feeling somewhat anxious to finally have some sort of damn purpose in this entire thing instead of almost feeling like she was bothering the person who was supposed to be her patient.

Sophia saw the strange car in the driveway as she came around the bushes that slightly blocked it and made her way quickly into the house, tossing her backpack down on the living floor, just inside where the kitchen and living room met, before heading to Carol's bedroom. Immediately she came face to face with the nurse.

She was a younger woman than Sophia had imagined, and she wasn't dressed in white like Sophia thought all nurses were always dressed. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and at the moment that Sophia came through the door she had Carol sitting on the edge of the bed and was discussing something with her.

The blonde woman turned with Sophia's presence and smiled, her hand still on Carol.

"And you must be Sophia…" the blonde said. "Carol and I heard you coming."

Sophia nodded a little.

"You can call me Andrea," the woman offered. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a little bit of one another."

"Nice to meet you," Sophia said. She wasn't really sure what to say to the woman, especially now that her brain was trying to adapt to the fact that the woman wasn't anything like the picture that she had painted in her head. "Her shoulder alright?" Sophia asked, hanging on the door frame.

"It's fine," Carol said. Sophia frowned at her, though Carol wasn't looking at her. The word "fine" ought to have a use limit on it and Sophia was certain that Carol had exceeded it.

"It's not quite where I would have liked it to be," Andrea said. She glanced in Sophia's direction a little. "So you're taking care of her?"

"That what she told you?" Sophia asked.

Now Carol was looking at her…and it was a warning look if Sophia had ever seen one before. She ignored it.

Andrea chuckled a little.

"So you're not taking care of her or you are?" Andrea asked. She helped Carol pull the top of the button down shirt that she was wearing back up and Carol kept her hand at her chest, holding the thing closed, not even moving to rebutton it for the moment.

"She doesn't seem to need much taking care of…" Sophia ventured. The blonde rolled her eyes in her direction and Sophia noticed that Carol didn't say anything, but she did close her eyes like someone expecting something to be coming.

Andrea smiled.

"Well, I think we're done here…for the day," she said to Carol. "Did you want to lie back?"

Carol shook her head a little and smiled.

"No…thank you…I think I'm going to sit up for a little while," Carol said.

Andrea nodded her head.

"Well, you're on my schedule all week and then we'll see from there how things are going. Alright?" Andrea asked.

Carol smiled, thanked the woman, and shot Sophia some kind of look as the woman passed by Sophia and out the bedroom door. Sophia decided she'd take her chances with Carol and followed the blonde woman straight through the house and out the door.

Once they were in the yard and Sophia was certain that Carol couldn't hear her, she called to get the blonde's attention.

"Yes?" Andrea asked, smiling and turning toward Sophia.

"Is she supposed to need things?" Sophia asked. "Like what am I supposed to be doing when I'm supposed to be taking care of her?"

Sophia shaded her eyes from the sun that seemed to be shining almost directly over the blonde's head.

Andrea smiled.

"I got the feeling she might be a tough patient," Andrea said.

Sophia bit at her lip and nodded her head a little.

"She can try to do the things that she feels like she's able to do," Andrea said. "She doesn't have to keep that shoulder exactly still, but I think the less she uses it for a few days, the better off she'll be. The biggest thing is that she doesn't want to overdo it and it seems like she might already be headed down that road."

"So what do you do when she won't tell you what she needs?" Sophia asked.

Andrea sighed.

"Honestly?" Andrea asked, her eyebrows knitting a little. "There's not too much you can do. Try to be there…try to offer help. Everyone knows, though, that sometimes you've got those patients that are going to hurt themselves before they stop being hardheaded enough to accept what they need."

Sophia didn't feel like the woman offered her any of the tricks that she wanted. She determined, in that very instant, that she didn't want to be a nurse…that was for sure. She would hate to know she was getting paid for a job that she sucked at as bad as she felt like she sucked at taking care of Carol.

"She did say you were helping her with her bathing," Andrea said. "So I needed to tell you that the baths are fine, just don't get the incision wet yet. Sometimes it's fine by this point, but hers has been irritated and the last thing she needs is an infection."

Sophia nodded her head at the blonde.

"Got it," she said. "Don't get the cut wet. Anything else different?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Not for today. I'll be by tomorrow too. If this is what time you typically get home then I'll be able to tell you anything you need to know," Andrea said. "Just try to keep her from overdoing it."

Sophia scoffed at the woman.

"Easier said than done," she said. "I'll give it a shot, though."

Andrea nodded at Sophia.

"If you have any questions for me, though, I'll be happy to answer them," Andrea said.

"I'll think on it, thanks…" Sophia said. She turned and let herself back inside the house, leaving the blonde to go on her way.

Sophia went directly to Carol's bedroom, almost fuming with her irritation. Carol was still sitting on the edge of the bed, now with her hand over her face. Sophia crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. She'd started talking before Carol seemed to realize she was present.

"You making that face because you hurt yourself or because you're embarrassed that you're being harder to deal with than a toddler?" Sophia asked.

Carol looked at her, confused for a moment and then annoyed.

"What are you talking about?" Carol asked. "Did something get into you today?"

Sophia huffed.

"You did!" She responded. "I told you that I was going to take care of you. I told you that this was important to me and all you've done is fuck up your shoulder more than it has to be…what all have you been doing that you weren't supposed to do?"

"Excuse me?" Carol snapped. "Don't you come in here and yell at me! You're a kid, Sophia…I'm an adult. I will tolerate a lot of things, but I'm not going to let you disrespect me!"

Sophia backed up a step. She realized that she'd overstepped a boundary…and she also realized it was one that she would have never dared to overstep with any of her foster parents so far. She'd snapped at plenty of people, but this was the first time that it had been actually personal.

"I'm sorry," Sophia said, lowering her tone of voice. Carol still glared at her.

Sophia waited a moment, not entirely sure how to proceed from here.

"You didn't tell me you needed help getting a bath," Sophia said. "If you had, I wouldn't have made you wait since Friday or Saturday…or whenever they helped you at the hospital."

Carol sighed and shifted a little on the bed tugging at the shirt she was wearing in almost a nervous fashion.

"Thank you…but I don't need your help," Carol said.

Sophia made a face.

"You can't get your incision wet and you're supposed to move that shoulder as little as possible," Sophia said. "I'm not going to fight with you over this shit. I'm sure you can wash yourself for the most part, but I'm at least helping you get in the tub and making sure you don't break your neck or some shit like that. You die and I go back into the system with a record."

Carol snickered.

"Get me some paper. I'll sign an agreement that I died of my own accord. It won't come back on you," Carol said, rolling her eyes in Sophia's direction.

Sophia crossed her arms tighter against her chest. She hadn't wanted to strangle Carol since she got here, but in this moment she thought she might enjoy it.

"Just let me help you," Sophia said, irritation leaking out in her voice.

"I'm not an invalid, Sophia," Carol said. "I don't need help bathing. I'm just fine."

Sophia growled now, no longer able to control herself.

"Why are you so damn proud?!" Sophia spat. "I'm not being disrespectful, I just want to understand! You don't want me around? You don't want my help? Is that it?" Sophia asked. "If so, just tell me! Tell the fucking nurse…Andrea or whatever tomorrow…but stop being so damn annoying!"

Carol frowned at her and Sophia didn't care that Carol was bothered by what she said. She really didn't care at all. She'd fucked up in the whole driving thing and she'd never meant for this to happen, but she just wanted to help and if Carol wasn't ever going to accept it then she might as well quit trying.

"Sophia…" Carol said after a moment, her face relaxing some. "I don't need your help, OK? And I don't want the nurse's help. I can do this on my own."

Sophia saw something in Carol's facial expression…something that flashed there for just a second…and she wondered if this was something that Carol was putting on. Some kind of act. Sophia knew enough about performing your role. She'd performed enough roles in her life already that she should have won more awards than she could count on both hands.

Sophia dropped her arms.

"Fine," Sophia said. "Tell you what…you can do it on your own."

Carol looked a little relieved.

"I'm just going to watch…" Sophia said. "You know…in case you realize that you do need help."

Carol looked at her again.

"You're not going to watch me, Sophia," Carol said.

Sophia nodded.

"Yes I am. Just this once. If I see you've got it under control, then it's all you. I'm not trying to hang up under your ass any more than I have to. I said I'd take care of you, though, and I told the nurse I'd help you, so I'm not leaving until I'm satisfied that you don't need me," Sophia said. "So go ahead…get to it. I've got homework to do and you've got to eat something if you're going to take your medicine, so we need to get this show on the road."

Now it was Carol's turn to growl. Sophia thought, though, that the woman was finally giving up the fight. Maybe somewhere they could at least find some kind of middle ground about this. Sophia wasn't going to feel like she'd done all she could do, that was clear, but at least she was going to be able to say, with some honesty, to the nurse that she'd tried to help.

Carol made her way into the bathroom and Sophia went ahead of her. She could at least stop the tub up and start the water so that Carol didn't have to try to do that. Once the water was going, Sophia turned around and felt like she was in some kind of scene in one of those old Western movies. They were standing, facing each other, and there was going to be some kind of battle…Sophia could see that.

"I'm in here," Carol said. "The water's going…I can handle it from here."

Sophia crossed her arms and again and sat down on the edge of the tub to make it quite clear that she had no intention of losing this fight. If there was anything that Sophia knew her record said that was true was that she was a terribly hardheaded individual…especially if what she was being hardheaded about mattered to her.

"Let me ask you something…" Sophia started.

Carol huffed and rolled her eyes and Sophia could tell she was getting irritated with the whole situation. She'd apparently thought that Sophia would be glad to hand over the reins and get the hell out of Dodge. It mattered to Sophia to help…and it mattered to Carol not to be helped.

"What do you want?" Carol asked.

"I get that you don't want me to help you because you feel like you've got something to prove…fine…but why don't you want me to just stay? Just to make sure? Is it because you don't want me to see you naked or something?" Sophia asked.

Immediately Sophia knew without a shadow of a doubt that she'd hit the nail on the head. Carol's entire facial expression fell. She was quick to sweep the pieces of it back up, but Sophia had caught it.

"I'm a private person," Carol said. "We all like our privacy."

Sophia nodded.

"We do, you're right…" Sophia said. "And I tell you what…since you'll be the very first human being that I've ever seen without clothes on," Sophia said with sarcasm, "I'll try not to look too hard."

Carol eyed Sophia with some annoyance. Sophia wasn't sure what the woman was hiding, but she was sure she was hiding something, and slowly Sophia was starting to put the pieces together like a puzzle in her head.

Sophia nodded her head as some of it started to come together.

"OK…" Sophia said, reaching over to turn the roaring taps off on the tub. "How about this…we'll make a deal since you're so fond of playing games. If you'll just let me help you with this then I'll give you three questions…whatever the hell you want to know…and you don't have to ask them right now. Anything you want…and I won't ask you anything."

Carol sighed. Now she looked tired.

"I don't want to ask you anything," Carol said.

"But you might," Sophia said. "It's a good deal. Three questions, nothing off limits, and not takesies backsies…and all you have to do is quit being a pain in my ass and take a bath. Besides…you smell…this is really to your benefit as much as it is to mine."

Carol snickered a little, though Sophia could tell it was in spite of herself. She sighed, closed her eyes, and started to try to make her way out of the sweatpants she was wearing. Sophia could tell that she'd done it a few times because she thought she did better getting out of them one handed and as stiff as Frankenstein's monster than Sophia ever could have.

Carol started trying to unbutton her shirt and finally Sophia got up.

"Can I help?" She asked, reaching out to start with the buttons. Carol nodded a little, but she had eyes closed. Sophia unbuttoned the shirt and while she was doing it, she was trying to figure out the best way to take it off. "Take your left arm out," she commanded. "Then I'll bring it around and over the right one…and then I'll get this contraption off."

Carol went along with everything and Sophia helped her out of her clothes. She'd only been paying attention to helping her and avoiding the gasps that Carol tried not to make when she jarred herself too much, and it wasn't until she was helping her into the tub that Sophia realized the full impact of why Carol didn't want her to see her without clothes on.

Sophia tried to keep her face from giving anything away. She had no idea what her face might look like, but if it mirrored her thoughts at all she was sorry for it. Once Carol was in the water, she worked on washing herself, though Sophia had at least lathered the rag for her and handed it to her, not saying anything. Sophia sat on the side of the tub and tried to watch the wall, trying to be as respectful as she could.

"I'll do your back…" Sophia offered.

When the time came, Carol silently nudged her and handed Sophia the rag and Sophia washed her back and her shoulders, avoiding the angry looking place where the incision had been made.

Sophia had no idea what had caused all the scars and she didn't want to know. The worst one was the puckered scar on Carol's stomach that looked like a burn. At a quick glance Sophia could tell that it was supposed to say something, but there was no way she'd have let her eyes focus on it long enough to try to figure out what the message was supposed to be.

Sophia had a couple of scars, but they were mostly due to being accident prone. There was the scar on her right shin from a sharp rock, one on her right arm where she'd accidentally busted out the wire screen in a metal storm door and somehow cut her arm yanking it back through…a few here and there from spills.

But she knew the ones that Carol was hiding weren't from being accident prone. If they had been, she would have been dead a few times over from probably falling off a building somewhere and breaking her neck.

Sophia guarded the silence as best she could. If she were Carol, she wouldn't want anyone talking about the scars…she wondered now if the three questions she'd given up in the trade were even really worth it. She kind of hoped, as much as she hated the idea of answering them, that Carol at least made them good ones.

When they were done, Sophia helped Carol out with the same respectful silence that she'd guarded so far and handed her a towel. The only words they exchanged then were when Sophia offered to get her clothes for her and help her to get dressed again, and the conversation only centered on the act.

By the time Sophia got Carol back into the bed, the woman looked deflated to say the least, and Sophia wasn't even beginning to blame it on the shoulder.

"I'm going to make something to eat," Sophia said, still focusing on keeping her face as deadpan as possible. She wanted to process all of this, and she would when she took to writing it in her notebook, but she wasn't going to do it around Carol. "Do you need anything until I get you a sandwich or something made?"

Carol shook her head. She looked pained and leaned back against the pillow.

"I'll bring your medicine when I come too," Sophia said. She turned and started out the room. She only turned back because Carol called her name. "What?" Sophia asked, turning.

"Sophia…" Carol said, "Don't tell anyone….OK?"

Sophia shook her head and did her best to look confused. She felt her chest ache, though, and she didn't know if she was doing as good a job at acting as she thought she was.

"About what?" She asked.

Sophia turned quickly, before Carol could answer…just in case she didn't realize that Sophia didn't really want an answer.

She would have a lot to write in her notebook tonight…and a lot of it wasn't pleasant…but she could at least write one thing that was new and belonged to her just as much as it belonged to Carol. They had a secret.

Sophia had a lot of "secrets" with foster parents throughout her life. It seemed like something that went hand in hand…part of the lifestyle. Foster parents and secrets were like peanut butter and jelly…they just went together. But this one was different. This was one that Sophia didn't mind keeping just between them.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Me again! Sorry it takes me a while on this one, but sometimes it just does. Anyway, this chapter is sort of a development/necessary evil chapter. Sorry about that. I'm hoping the next one won't be too long in coming. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Carol couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around Sophia. The girl was being as attentive to her as if she were being paid for it. Carol wasn't used to that kind of attention and she surely wasn't used to it being given freely. If ever Ed did something that caused her to actually need attention or assistance in any way, he'd been of the mentality that she best figure out a way to get it done and not disturb him in the process.

Sophia, on the other hand, hadn't even been the cause of her shoulder problem, at least not really. Sure, she'd been driving the car and the wreck had aggravated the old war wounds from life with Ed, but this wasn't Sophia's fault.

At first Carol had been utterly humiliated when the girl insisted on helping her dress, undress, bathe, and do anything else that she really needed a little help with. Carol didn't like anyone at all seeing what she looked like. She didn't even like to look at it herself, but Sophia hadn't made a big deal of it at all and it helped a little to know that the girl would just ignore what was right in front of her eyes for the sake of making it through the day as normally as possible.

It had been almost a week, though, since the accident, and Carol was realizing that she and Sophia both had to get back to life as they knew it. She needed to go back to work and Sophia needed to start getting back into a life where she was more than a nurse to Carol. Unfortunately, Carol didn't think her shoulder quite understood how much she wanted to just forget the whole thing and begin fresh with it. Apparently it was going to take it a lot longer, according to her nurse, than she'd anticipated.

Maybe she'd been foolish to think it would happen this way, but Carol had kind of imagined that within a week the shoulder would just be back to normal. She'd thought that once she was told she could move it, that would be that…she'd just be able to move it and that would be the end of the story. Now she was realizing that just because she could move it in theory that didn't mean that in practice it did nearly the things that she wanted from it. In fact, Carol didn't consider herself a violent woman, but she was beginning to think if she heard the phrase "don't push it" one more time from her nurse she was likely to slap the woman.

Regardless of whether or not the thing was back to normal, though, Carol knew she had to get back to work and she had to get life up and running again. She had sick days accumulated from all the years that she'd been working at the library, but she didn't relish taking them all in case another emergency were to happen. Other than that, she needed to do the day to day things, like going to the grocery store and cleaning the house, that she didn't feel comfortable asking Sophia to do beyond a point.

And if she was going to do any of this…she was really going to need a car.

"Sophia," Carol asked over breakfast, "what's your shop friend's name that has my car?"

Sophia dumped the remainder of a box of cereal into a bowl and got up to take the empty box to the trash can.

"Tootie," Sophia said, "and we're out of cereal."

Carol sighed.

"Sweetheart, we're out of everything except spaghetti noodles and sugar," Carol said.

"Can't wait to see what's for dinner," Sophia said.

Carol chuckled.

"I'm going to call Tootie today and see about getting the car," Carol said. "Hopefully it isn't too bad and it's still got enough miles left in it to get us by until I can do something about it."

Sophia frowned and Carol had learned enough of her facial expressions by now to know that she was kicking herself. Carol reached across the table and nudged Sophia's hand with her fingertip.

"Stop it," Carol said. "It's not a big deal. The car was on its last legs anyway. I was already planning on replacing it."

Sophia glanced at her and then went back to her cereal, looking none too convinced.

Carol wasn't sure, in actuality, how convincing the lie had been anyway. She wasn't really planning on replacing the car anytime soon. She'd really planned on driving the thing into the dirt since it was paid for. She wasn't broke, but she wasn't exactly rolling in money either. Sophia didn't need to know that, though. It wasn't like the girl ever asked for anything that cost money as it was and Carol didn't want the girl dwelling on how much every single thing costs.

"You're going to have to start driving again," Carol said.

Sophia looked at her, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh no…" she started.

Carol nodded her head at her.

"Oh yes," Carol said. "Sophia, you're never going to learn if you don't practice."

Sophia glared at her.

"And what? Kill us both next time? No thank you, I'll walk," Sophia said.

Carol did everything in her power to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape at Sophia's dramatics.

"Sophia, you had a wreck. It's fine…those things happen. I promise you're not the first person ever to get in a wreck. You're going to learn to drive, and I mean that," Carol said.

"I'm not driving anymore," Sophia said. "You can't actually make someone drive. Besides…what would you do if I broke your other shoulder?"

Carol looked at the ceiling this time, thinking she might choke on the laugh that just wouldn't go away. She knew, though, that if she did laugh Sophia might take it wrong.

"First," Carol said when she felt like she had control of herself, "my shoulder isn't broken. Second, you didn't do it. And third…what if it wasn't with me? Huh? What if I talked to some of your shop buddies and see if anyone wants to pick up a little extra driving instruction in their lives?"

Sophia looked like she was considering it.

"Wren taught his kids," she offered.

Carol nodded her head.

"Then I'll have a talk with Robert Wren today," Carol said. She glanced around, checking the time on the clock in the kitchen. "You better hurry up…if you miss your bus I don't have a car to take you in."

Sophia nodded and picked up her cereal bowl, drinking the milk and finishing the cereal that way. Carol had suggested, on occasion, that this wasn't the nicest way to eat cereal, but today she'd overlook it since Sophia really didn't need to miss her bus.

It wasn't three minutes later that the girl bolted out the door with her backpack, declaring something like "see you later" that Carol could barely hear from the closing of the door.

Carol sat at the table and sighed a little to herself. She needed to do her best to get ready and then she could call the towing guy, Tootie, to find out what needed to be done for her to get her car back.

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Daryl was about sick of dealing with shit this morning. He'd been trapped in the back office calling place after place trying to get a good deal on some parts because Mac was trying to cut an old lady a deal on getting her car fixed after her grandson had decided to take the damn thing out for a joyride and had brought it home with the left front fender demolished and declared he had no fucking clue how that shit happened.

Daryl knew how that shit happened. Looked like the asshole had hit one of the concrete bases for a light pole down at the city parking lot. That's what the hell it looked like…and it looked like he'd probably been under the damn influence of some mind altering shit because when he'd started hitting it he hadn't stopped like anyone with half a brain would do. There were scratches all down the side of the car, but he figured they could fix that shit easily enough if they could get some decent ass second hand parts.

Problem was that most of the fuckers who had what the hell he needed were wanting to trade personal work for personal parts. It was a fair deal and all, but the work they wanted was going to be off the clock hours for Daryl in particular and he wasn't drawing the damn profit off the shop like Mac was. If he was going to make a personal deal about this shit because it mattered to Mac, then Mac was just going to have to give it to him as billable hours at the very damn least and that's all there was to it.

When Daryl got off the phone with the last asshole, doing a little bit of calculation in his head over which of the deals offered to him would actually come out being the best for him if Mac was game to play his way, Daryl got up and shoved the paper into his pocket that he'd written the information on.

On his way out the office, Daryl stopped at the old drink machine and tried to croon to it enough to convince it to give him an orange soda, which he knew that Wren had loaded in there a few days before, but all he ended up getting out of it was a Diet Cola. Daryl frowned at the drink and made his way into the shop just as a familiar voice hit his ears.

"I just really don't know what to do in this situation…" Carol was saying.

Daryl came in and his eyes focused on her. She was standing in the middle of the shop talking to Wren was leaning against the work counter and smoking a cigarette, despite the fact that good damn luck was the only reason he didn't explode around some of those chemicals.

Wren shrugged and lolled his head in Daryl's direction.

"Ya got time to write another estimate…for the laaaddyyy here?" Wren asked.

Daryl shrugged and looked at Carol.

"What'cha need an estimate on?" He asked.

Carol looked at him with a facial expression that was damn near dripping sarcasm and he tried not to roll his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for that kind of shit.

"My car…" Carol said. "I don't know if an estimate is what I need or an inspection or what."

"Where is it?" Daryl asked.

"Outside," Wren said. "Only damn way you didn't hear her coming was 'cause you had your head up your ass. I can tell you right now…you don't need an estimate and you don't need an inspection. What you need is a new damn car."

Carol sighed and looked at Daryl like she was desperate. Daryl was good with body work but if there were mechanical problems that was really more Merle's area in the shop.

"Where the fuck's Merle?" Daryl asked Wren.

"Beats the hell outta me, sweetheart," Wren said. "Took off with Mac about fifteen minutes ago. Didn't tell me a damn thing."

Daryl glanced back at Carol and realized that Wren was waiting on him to do something about the woman.

"Come on, let's go look at'cha damn car," Daryl said. He'd already seen the car once when he'd gone to try to find her purse in it. He hated to be an asshole, but from what he remembered, Wren was pretty damn close to being right. If it had been a newer car, a better car, it wouldn't have been that bad…but based on the value of the car it wasn't worth sinking any money in the junker to fix it. She'd be better to cut her losses.

Daryl walked out of one of the open stall doors with Carol just behind him. As he stepped outside and saw the car he walked around it, getting a better look at it. As he stopped by the driver side door and opened it to pop the hood, he realized that Carol and Wren had both followed him out to watch him as he examined the vehicle.

His suspicions were right, though, and when he was satisfied he walked over to Carol.

"Ya want the long damn story or ya want me ta just give ya the short version?" Daryl asked, looking first at Carol and then glancing at Wren who was leaning against the shop wall.

"The short version," Carol said, fidgeting with her clothes with her left hand. Daryl could tell by the look on her face that she probably already had a pretty good idea what the hell he was going to say.

Daryl bit at his thumb.

"Ain't gon' say we couldn't fix it for ya, but if we did it'd just be damn highway robbery," Daryl said. "That car ain't got nothin' goin' for it. Wouldn't nobody buy it if it was fixed an' ya sure as shit would put more money in it fixin' it than it's worth."

Carol sighed.

"What it has going for it is that it's paid for," Carol said. "How long can I drive it? I mean just to get by? I really can't afford a new car right now."

Daryl sucked his teeth trying to figure out how he wanted to answer that question. He understood people not having the money for the shit that their cars needed. Hell they heard those stories all damn day long every day. But Daryl also knew that the woman needed a car. She didn't live close to town and she had a kid.

"I can't say for sure," he said. "Ya ain't gon' get too damn far in it, though. Ya'd do better ta sell it for parts…and Wren here can find ya a pretty good dealer. We know some people…might be able ta find ya somethin' second hand. Ain't gon' be no damn BMW or nothin', but it'll get'cha from point A ta B."

Carol sighed and looked between Daryl and Wren raking her fingers through her hair. She shrugged a little and chuckled, but it wasn't a sincere chuckle.

"What else can I do, right?" Carol asked to neither one of them in particular. "How long until you think I could find something affordable?"

Daryl cast his eyes in Wren's direction. The man was smoking a cigarette and shredding a leaf that he'd picked up very carefully between his fingers. He spoke out of the side of his mouth, careful not to drop his cigarette.

"Rod out there's got some Hondas that ain't too damn bad but she don't need to go out there on her own. Rod'll run her in the dirt if she goes out there on her own. I'll call him up today if you want…reckon you could run her out there tomorrow?" Wren asked, barely glancing at Daryl.

Daryl rolled his eyes to himself. He didn't want to go and deal with Ron's ass, but he could tell by Wren's tone that he was going to force him into if it anyone was going.

Daryl bit at his cuticle again, realizing that Carol was staring at him, her eyes almost piercing his skin.

"Yeah…I can run her out there tomorrow," he said finally.

"Oh thank you!" Carol declared. She turned back toward Wren. "You really think that he'll give me a good deal?"

"As a favor to me and Daryl?" Wren asked. "Yeah, Rod's a pretty decent guy when he knows you. Prob'ly knew your dad too…but Rod'll yank you around if he thinks his pimply little ass can get away with it. Daryl'll get you set up though."

Wren took a final drag off his cigarette and flicked the butt into the overflowing bucket of sand and cigarette butts that was sitting near him.

"When's Wendy gettin' back anyways?" Wren asked. "Kinda miss having her scrawny ass around here."

Carol smiled at the man and Daryl wandered back into the shop to retrieve the soda that he'd abandoned earlier and that was probably piss warm. He didn't hear her response to the question during his absence, and when he returned, cracking the drink open with a hiss and sucking the foam off the top, she and Wren were talking about something else.

"Yeah…Mac'll let me off an hour early easy…" Daryl heard Wren say.

"The fuck ya gettin' off early for?" Daryl spat as soon as he heard it. "Don't fuckin' work as it is…"

"Told the lady here I'd teach Wendy how to drive…'less you think you'd rather do it?" Wren said.

Daryl shook his head.

"Hell no…" Daryl said. "Be better at it than you would though…too damn drunk ta drive yaself…less likely ta teach anyone else how ta drive."

Wren shook his head at Carol.

"He's bein' an asshole," Wren said. "I don't drink 'til after I knock off and I wouldn't be drinking in the car with Wendy. I can teach her in my old truck out there…though know what we oughta do first?"

Carol shook her head.

Daryl saw Wren looking at him out of the corner of his eye for confirmation and Daryl sipped at the drink in his hand.

"Outta hall her ass up here to Tootie's," Wren said. "Got a big old fucking field up there an' about forty cars like yours just on their last damn legs and waitin' to rust out. Hell, let her fuck some cars up in the field and get a feel for the basics. Starting, stopping, turning…let her tear damn loose and get it out her system."

Daryl shrugged. Hell he'd learned to drive damn near on his own. Merle was responsible for whatever formal training you really wanted to contribute to him and the rest of it was trial and error.

Carol looked at Daryl.

"Do you think that would be a good idea?" She asked. He could see panic written all over her damn face and he wondered why the hell she was looking at him when she'd struck up this little deal with Wren. Still, for whatever reason he hated seeing that look on her face when he could at least reassure her or whatever the hell she needed and she'd feel better about it.

"Hell," Daryl said. "Prob'ly a good damn idea. She can't get up fast enough ta hurt her ass even if she hit the damn buildin'. Be good for her ta get the hang a' just handlin' the car where she can fuck around without no one naggin' her. Then take her out after work an' she'll be drivin' 'fore ya know it."

Wren chuckled.

"Best way to learn's just to get the hell in there…just about like anything else. You don't know how to do it until you get in there and learn," Wren said. "Got a damn motorcycle helmet in the back of the shop…put that shit on her and she really can't get hurt."

Carol looked back and forth between them.

"And you really don't mind teaching her?" She asked.

"Hell if my boys can do it I guess Wendy can handle it," Wren said.

Daryl sipped out of his soda and shrugged.

"Seems like ya got'cha answer," he said. "Call down here tomorrow an' I'll let'cha know what's up with goin' ta pick ya out a car at Rod's."

Daryl considered his work done and left Carol to talk with Wren. Mac and Merle hadn't bothered to come back yet and he figured, knowing those two, they'd gone out to do some damn job that might have been a fifteen minute ordeal but they were banking on taking the rest of the damn day to do it. He shuffled back into the shop and figured he'd get started un-taping the car that had been sprayed earlier so it could be water sanded and buffed.

At least if he kept busy he would have an excuse not to hear Wren's mouth when Carol finally left and he came looking for Daryl to give him a hard damn time about the fact that she'd even been there. He wasn't even pretending not to notice the fact, after all, that Wren hadn't exactly offered to take Carol himself up to Rod's to look at a car. He was looking for the opportunity to give Daryl shit about Carol…or Bat Woman as he referred to her in her absence…being his girlfriend.

The most Daryl could really do was keep busy and keep his mouth shut and hope that Wren would lose interest in harassing him. If he fought back, though, Wren would run his mouth like an idiot in front of the woman or in front of Sophia, and Daryl really didn't have the energy to try and explain that shit to either of them. So he determined that the next day he'd take the woman up to Rod's and get her a second hand car, he'd endure a little of Wren's pain in the ass ribbing, and that would be that.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Here's another update on this one for you! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Sophia sat at the large wooden table, her chin resting on her hand and her elbow resting next to the notebook that she was doodling in. The room was better decorated for having conferences with children who were about seven instead of with sixteen year olds, but Sophia assumed that, like most counselors, Señorita Unitooth probably figured that anyone who "required her services" at the high school level was on the same basic mental level as a small child.

It was all just bullshit anyway. Sophia wasn't talking to the stupid ass guidance counselor. She didn't have shit to say to the woman and anything she would have said wouldn't have mattered anyway. This wasn't her first rodeo.

So instead of talking she was busy drawing a charicature of the woman that she'd decided would be her nemesis if she were a comic book hero. Señorita Unitooth had earned her name from Sophia because it appeared that the woman hadn't brushed her teeth since probably the Second World War and all the crud that got caked there had served to make it so that Sophia didn't feel like the separation between her teeth was even visible any longer. It was disgusting, to say the least, and the woman's breath smelled like spoiled dog food…and yet she felt the need to try to the age old trick of leaning in close to Sophia to talk in the thought that this might insight her to share something with her.

"I told you," Sophia said, nearly the sixteenth time the woman loudly sighed, "if you'd just call the number I gave you and ask for Wren he'll find Carol."

Sophia glanced at the woman and saw her frown before she turned her attention back to shading her drawing.

"That is not an official number we have on record for Carol McAlister," Señorita Unitooth declared.

Sophia shrugged.

"Well…she's not at home because she was going to look at a car and her cell phone took a little trip to the land of the lost…so if you want to get ahold of her then you're going to have to call Wren and get his help," Sophia answered back nonchalantly.

"Now that you're feeling chatty," the woman responded. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Sophia just shook her head and went back to her drawing. There wasn't all that much to tell, and what there was to tell she didn't want to share with Señorita Unitooth. It wasn't going to matter anyway. No matter what she said she was just going to end up being suspended and Carol was going to flip a royal shit if she didn't lose it entirely.

Sophia had actually made a promise to herself so far…a promise that this wouldn't happen again and she wouldn't end up in a fight in school. She'd keep her temper to herself and she wouldn't lash out at any of the over privileged assholes that she had to deal with all the damn day long. She'd really meant not to get in a fight too. It had meant a lot to her to keep it to herself.

The fights were usually like a first class ticket out of a foster home. A bonafide guarantee that you were the "troubled" child they'd been warned about. Foster parents didn't even listen to what Sophia had to say about the fights she'd been in. Of course all of them had been one hundred percent her fault and she'd never ever been pushed into them…no, not once.

And the same thing would probably happen with this shit. She'd never meant for it to happen…not at all…but it had happened all the same.

Hailey Jackson and her ban of snotty little bitch friends had been harassing Sophia since she came to the damn school. They were all up under her ass if she dared to try to enter the general population at all. The first bitches to point out she was a kid from the system…the first ones to draw attention to how damn different that made her…the first ones to announce something about it in every fucking class she had to make sure that her teachers and every damn person in the room felt awkward and from there on out treated her like she had some highly contagious and incurable disease.

And then Hailey Jackson and her little band of bitchy friends had gotten wind that Sophia was working at Mac's…and they'd taken every chance they could to spread around school that she was a dyke or a slut. She was a dyke for working on cars and a slut for working with all men...all of whom she must clearly be fucking…so she was one great big damn mystery because she was all of the above. Sophia had dealt with it by informing them that the words they were probably searching for were sexually liberated bisexual.

They'd only been pissier, though, because she'd embarrassed them by calling them on their shit.

And then they'd started in on Carol. Sophia knew enough about her situation that she wasn't going to fucking listen to Hailey Jackson and her bitchy friends talk about whatever the hell gossip their prissy and polished parents had fed to them.

And so today…well every cup runneth over at some point…and Sophia had been at her locker, switching out her books to go to Chemistry, which she hated, and Hailey Jackson had been yacking at her from nearby. She'd been talking about Sophia…who was of course a dyke and slut…and Carol…who apparently shared the same sexual inclinations…and then she'd gone and to bring some shit about Ed and what her "Daddy" said and Sophia had sort of slipped and forgot her promise to herself.

She hadn't really meant to introduce Hailey Jackson's face to the lockers with as much force as she had…but hey…shit happens.

So now she was in Señorita Unitooth's office and she assumed that Hailey Jackson was somewhere lurking outside, surely having made it back from the nurse's office with her bloody face by now. And she had to wait there until they got ahold of Carol to come up to the school…in God knows what car she could find that could make it that far…and pick Sophia up for her suspension. There would probably be some brouhaha where she also had to have some kind of conversation with Hailey Jackson and her primly pressed parents, but Sophia wasn't sure about that part yet.

Señorita Unitooth shifted in her chair again.

"You know I'm here to help you, Sophia," the woman said. "If you'll only tell me what happened, we might be able to work this out."

"Mmmm hmmm," Sophia hummed.

"Are you having problems at home?" Señorita Unitooth asked. "I could contact your case worker…it's safe to tell me what's happening at home, Sophia. I could help you."

"Fuck my case worker," Sophia mumbled.

"Sophia, that's not proper language for high school and it's not proper for a young girl," the woman responded.

Sophia huffed.

"I don't have problems at home," Sophia said. "And I don't need to talk to my case worker. My problems are here at this damn school…and I don't want to talk about them. What I want is for you to call that number I gave you, ask for Wren, and get ahold of Carol so I can start my suspension now."

The woman sighed loudly again and Sophia shook her head slightly, going back to her drawing.

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Rod was one of those men that was probably somewhere in his mid to late forties, but he could have very well been younger and just wore the effects of a life of hard drugs, drinking, and the like. He looked like something out of an 80's hair band and Wren referred to him as Steven Tyler whenever he wasn't around. He laughed like a donkey braying and Daryl didn't care much for talking with him, but he tended to have good deals on parts and he dealt in some pretty decent used cars.

He was an ass with women, though, and Daryl had seen it more than once. Rod was one of those men that claimed to have laid every woman that walked through his shitty little office and Daryl doubted he'd ever even laid two women in his life.

He was also one that would jerk you around in a heartbeat if he didn't know you or he thought he could snow you.

That's why Wren had sent his ass out here with Carol…well, that and so he could spend the whole damn morning harassing Daryl about the woman. The harassment wasn't over yet either, Daryl was sure of that shit. Wren was like a cat. Once he got ahold of some shit that amused him he would play with that shit until it was absolutely fucking dead with no chance of ever being interesting again.

Still, Daryl knew that someone had to come out here with Carol. It would have been pretty damn shitty to send the woman on her own to be hit on mercilessly by Rod and then figuratively fucked in the ass over the price of a car that wouldn't be worth half of what he'd ask for it.

So before they'd even spoken to Rod, Daryl had pulled up and taken Carol to look at the handful of cars that Wren reported would be out there on the lot. There were some that were better looking than others, but Daryl knew that for Carol it was going to boil down to dependability. He didn't know her well, but he could tell that practical was probably a real damn good adjective for the woman.

So Daryl had walked around, letting her look at the cars, listening to her as she commented on them, all the while trying to figure out what was important to her and what she might end up liking the best and comparing that with what he was mentally thinking he'd buy if he were in her shoes and her need and his knowledge.

Daryl didn't have time for women and he didn't have a real genuine interest in them. He'd fucked a couple in his life…usually more to shut is loud ass brother's mouth than anything else…but he didn't have any real interest in women. He certainly wasn't like Wren who wanted to spend his whole damn life with a hellcat that he fought with tooth and nail and he wasn't like Mac who wanted to marry woman after woman, usually more than once, in some epic search to find some shit that just didn't fucking exist. He wasn't even like Merle who thought he had to go out searching for some new piece of ass to hit just about every weekend. Daryl just didn't give a shit about it when it came down to it. He could take care of his own damn animal urges if that's all the hell it was about.

That didn't mean, though, that he didn't notice women. Hell, he was human. He'd have a look at a particularly nice pair of tits if they were visible and he wasn't against glancing at a nice ass if someone was sashaying that shit around in front of his face. He felt like if they put it on display, they were asking you to fucking look anyway, and so he might as well not disappoint them.

But Daryl hadn't really looked at Carol like that. She was a woman, there was no doubt about that, but he had no idea if he would venture to say that anything about her was really "nice". Hell, her clothes were so fucking big that anything could be hiding in there and he'd never know it.

She had a pretty face, though…and she had pretty eyes…and as they'd looked at the cars and she'd chattered about one stupid thing or another, Daryl had realized she had a nice smile.

Other than that, though, he hadn't really paid her a whole lot of damn attention until he'd started trying to talk cars with Rod and Rod kept asking him questions about her. Typical Rod wanted to know if she was single or if she had an old man. Wanted to know if Daryl had taken her out for a little test drive. Wanted to know all the damn things that Rod wanted to talk about…which was everything about some ass and nothing about the damn car that Daryl was trying to negotiate with him about while they stood some feet from where Carol was circling around, looking at cars, and waiting on Daryl to call her over.

"Ya can't go no fuckin' lower than that?" Daryl asked when he had what he thought was Rod's final offer since the man had repeated it twice.

Rod looked around him, watching Carol. He slid his tongue across his bottom lip.

"Seriously, Bo, ya hit that?" Rod asked.

Daryl shook his head. Damn he hated dealing with fuckers like this. This was why the hell he let Wren and Mac handle most the shit like this that they had to do. Dealing with these inbred assholes was bad enough if it was just about the regular everyday shit, but bringing Carol here was like bringing a fucking steak to the zoo and having to have a civilized conversation with one of the damn lions.

"No, man…now is that the fuckin' lowest ya can go?" Daryl asked, his frustration growing.

Rod looked at him and chuckled a little.

"Ya tryin' ta hit it?" Rod asked, raising his eyebrows.

Daryl rolled his eyes and Rod smirked.

"What's it worth to ya?" Rod asked.

"Not ta punch ya in the fuckin' gut for bein' a dick…" Daryl said.

Rod smirked again.

"Got that Chevelle out there in my shop," Rod said. "Still needs a hood on it an' I was hoping to get it sprayed…a little custom work maybe. You do a damn fine job with some detailing. I can make this pretty damn affordable if you can make that shit happen."

Daryl glanced back toward Carol was leaning against the fender of the car that they'd picked out. It was the best damn one out there, and thought that didn't mean it was too damn great, it was the best she could get in the budget she'd tossed out to him on the way over. She saw them looking because she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked at him, waiting for some sort of signal she was supposed to come over and seal the deal.

"Knock a damn grand off the top and we'll work somethin' out," Daryl said.

Rod snickered.

"A grand? Fuck you, man! You're good, Bo, but'cha ain't that damn good," Rod said.

Daryl shook his head.

"No…I ain't…but I got a real nice scoop comin' ta me for some work I done that'd be real sweet ass on that Chevelle a' yours…specially all painted up right," Daryl said.

He'd been saving that hood scoop for something nicer than the piece of shit Chevelle that Rod was so damn fond of, but that fucking car had been Rod's pet project for as long as Daryl had known him and he figured he'd trip across another nice scoop before too long. Rod wouldn't be able to resist tricking the car out a little.

Rod chuckled and nodded, reaching his hand out at Daryl.

"Ya drive a hard fuckin' bargain," Rod said.

Daryl snickered at him and shook Rod's hand.

"Hope she's worth it," Rod said with a chuckle.

Daryl ignored him and turned around, waving at Carol to come over just as Rod jogged inside his shitty little office to answer the phone that'd been ringing off the damn hook and get the shit to write up the sale.

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Carol hadn't exactly intended this day to go as it had. She'd had a nice day for the most part. Daryl was friendly and he wasn't as vulgar as she'd actually expected him to be. They'd chatted about cars, mostly, and he'd told her some stories about cars that he'd worked on that hadn't meant anything to her, but his eyes had lit up when he talked about them, so she'd acted excited to hear what he had to say.

It was nice of him to take his time off of work and to drive her out to the little place. He'd gotten her a deal on a nice car, one she was driving now, and coupled with the money she got from Tootie for her old car, it really wasn't going to be too much of a stretch for her pocket book.

In fact, it would have been probably one of the best days that Carol had…right up until Rod had come out of the shop and asked if Daryl had a kid because Wren was on the phone saying there was some trouble up at the school with Wendy and he needed to talk to Daryl or Carol.

Carol had gotten on the phone and Wren had told her that she needed to call the school, which she had, and she'd found out that Sophia had been in fight and apparently broken a young girl's nose. She was being suspended, which really wasn't surprising if she was going to go about breaking people's noses, and Carol needed to come up there.

Thankfully it hadn't taken long to wrap things up with Rod and Carol had left the lot in the new car with Daryl following behind her. She'd expected him to head back to the shop, but to her surprise he'd followed her directly to the school and pulled in next to her in the parking lot.

"Thank you so much for today," Carol said as he got out of his truck and came toward her. "I really don't know how to thank you enough…"

She wasn't sure why he was there and she wasn't sure what she was going to do about Sophia or what the fight meant. Sophia hadn't mentioned having any trouble at school, and she knew that the girl had a temper and her records said she was "troubled" and "prone to violence", but Carol had never seen that side of the girl. Her head was swimming at the moment over what a complete failure she'd been thus far at this fostering mess, and now she wasn't sure if she was missing something in the etiquette for having someone help her buy a car at an incredible deal.

"I'll hang out here," Daryl said. "Just in case."

"In case of what?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"In case…ya know…ya get Sophia an' she needs somethin' or whatever," Daryl said.

The school was empty and the parking lot was almost empty. It was long after the time that everyone would have been clearing out of there. Carol looked around and lingered a moment longer, trying to figure out exactly why Daryl was there and what, if anything, she should do about it, when a woman in a suit came out of the double doors that led to the main office with her arm around a girl who had a very obvious broken nose…and Carol had seen a few of those in her days.

"Damn!" Daryl declared.

Carol sighed and shook her head.

"Fine…if you want to stay, you can…thank you," Carol said. "I've got to go…" She stopped and sighed. She wasn't sure what she had to go and do, actually. She wasn't sure at all what was happening or what might happen. "I've got to go and get Sophia," she finished.

Carol left Daryl there, leaning against his truck and smoking. She burst through the double doors and went directly to the main office where there was no one left except for the principal. The principal came, putting his hand on her shoulder, and Carol listened as she got the story from him.

Apparently the fight had been unprovoked. Sophia had simply passed by this girl…this Jackson girl…in the hall between classes and slammed her face into the locker. Carol frowned at the story, thinking that it just didn't sound like Sophia, but then she knew there was much to Sophia that she didn't know yet. She had a feeling they were going to get the next few days to talk about it, though, since Sophia was being "let off easy" and would be suspended for three days instead of five, given that she would apologize to the Jackson girl, with her parents present…and Carol present too, of course…upon returning to school.

Carol sighed and let herself be led to the place where Sophia was waiting for her. As soon as she walked in the door, Sophia crammed her things into her bookbag and stood up, walking toward her and then past her and out the door.

Carol felt her head spinning as the guidance counselor tried to speak to her about the incident…asked her if things were fine at home…said some things she didn't even catch about Sophia and her case worker…and Carol tried to keep up with all of it, trying to assure the guidance counselor and the principal both that she would speak to Sophia as soon as she got home and she would get to the bottom of the whole thing. This wasn't something that was going to happen again.

Even as she left the school though, leaving the judgmental faces behind her, and started out to the parking lot where Sophia had obviously gone and was very likely waiting for her with Daryl, Carol wondered if she really could guarantee that anything like this wouldn't happen again...and she worried that when she talked to Sophia she would find that something was going on at home…at least in Sophia's opinion…and Sophia wasn't happy, which was driving her to want to fight.

Carol sighed. She would just have to go and deal with this and hope for the best. If the problem was that Sophia wasn't happy, then she would hate to do it, but she'd call her social worker and get her transferred. She really hated to see the girl go, but she wanted to do what was best for her and if Sophia didn't want to be in her home any longer, then she wasn't going to keep her there and risk damaging the girl any further.

As Carol pushed open the heavy doors and stepped out into the parking lot, she could see Daryl leaning against his truck and Sophia talking to him.

Carol took a deep breath and went to join them, hoping that somehow she would know how to handle the situation.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: OK, so here you go. It's the weekend so I'm not as tired and was able to write another little chapter for this one. **

**As always, I thank you all for your reviews and support. I'm glad that you're liking the story, even though the tone is one that I'm still feeling out for myself since it's a little unlike some of the other stories I write.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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As Carol got to the truck where Daryl was leaning and talking to Sophia, she overheard him speaking.

"Yeah, but why'd ya break that girl's damn face?" Daryl asked.

Sophia shifted awkwardly and then turned, acknowledging Carol's approach. Carol wasn't sure exactly how to read the girl's facial expression. She looked annoyed and uncomfortable all at the same time. Carol sighed. They were going to talk about this, there was no doubt about that, but they weren't doing it in the school parking lot.

"Sophia," Carol said. "Get in the car…let's go home."

Sophia tossed a quick glance back at Daryl before walking around the side of the car and getting in. Carol stood there a moment, her arms crossed across her chest, and regarded Daryl as he leaned against his truck.

She wasn't sure what she should do. She felt like politeness dictate that she do something to pay Daryl back for taking the time out of his day that he had to take her to get the car and to deal with the salesman…and for even just waiting here in the parking lot when it really wasn't his place…but she didn't know what to do. She glanced through the windshield at Sophia who was sitting with her arms crossed, staring out the window.

Carol sighed. She figured she could at, the very least, extend the offer of having dinner with them to Daryl, though she wasn't planning anything more appetizing than pizza for the evening, and then maybe that would loosen Sophia up enough to talk about what had happened between her and the girl who was going to be nursing her broken nose for the rest of the day.

"I want to thank you," Carol said.

Daryl held up his hand.

"Don't mention it," he said. "I know what a pain in the ass people like Rod can be. It's a hell of a lot easier to deal with assholes like that when they think ya on their level."

Carol nodded her head slightly.

"Are you hungry?" She asked. "I'm going to order pizza. It's nothing fancy…but it's the least I could do…"

Carol wasn't really sure how to read Daryl's expressions any more than she was with Sophia at the moment. He hesitated a moment, stood up from his leaning position, and then scuffed at the ground with his shoe. He looked at her, his bangs falling in his face a little, and then she saw him glance toward the car where Sophia was sulking or thinking or whatever it was Sophia was doing when she looked like she did.

Daryl nodded finally.

"Yeah…alright," he said.

Carol smiled a little and nodded at him. She cleared her throat and threw another glance in Sophia's direction.

"Well…you know where we live," she said.

Daryl nodded and Carol started to get in her own car as he walked around his truck to get in.

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Sophia didn't want to talk about what the hell had happened. She hadn't meant to have the fight with Hailey Jackson, but how in the world was she supposed to explain that? Would Carol even listen to her?

She couldn't blame her if she didn't. Hell, Sophia figured someone like Carol might be against fighting. Look at what the hell it had done to her because some asshole had decided it was a fun damn time to be a tough guy.

Sophia wasn't that kind of person, though. She'd known those kinds of people. The bullies…and whether it was with words or it was with their hands, they were always there trying to drag someone else down. They were always looking for a way to make themselves look more damn impressive.

In Sophia's opinion, that's what the hell Hailey Jackson was. She might not have ever put her hands on any damn one…and that was probably because she was scared they'd do what the hell Sophia had done to her…but Hailey Jackson was the kind that would mouth off to somebody because it made her look special. If she could run her mouth about Sophia then she could make herself seem better than Sophia.

When they got to the house, Sophia had gone straight to her room to change her clothes…at least that was the pretext she was using. She did change her clothes while she was up there, just so it wasn't a complete lie, but the real reason that she'd gone up there was to have a few minutes to herself to think about the situation.

Carol was going to ask her why she slammed Hailey Jackson's face into a metal locker. Sophia wasn't dumb and she'd figured out that Carol was pretty smart when she wanted to be…and Carol was all about talking things out. The obvious first question was going to be why…what happened?

Sophia sat down on her bed. How was she supposed to explain that she'd put up with Hailey Jackson's mouth, and that most of the shit that she'd done Sophia could just overlook, but enough was enough. Then today, when she'd started in on the shit that she said her parents had said about Ed and Carol…about what he'd told everyone in town about her and how she deserved everything and how she was just teaching Sophia to be like her. It had just been too much and Sophia had slammed her head into the locker before she'd really thought about it.

But how was she supposed to explain that? Most of the fights that Sophia had been in before had been situations of enough was enough…but it was because she'd hated all of it. Every damn second of every damn day of her life in most places she'd been had been hated by her.

She'd been with families she knew didn't want her. Families that had all but set an hourglass for her so she could watch the sand run out until they got what the hell they wanted. They'd had stupid rules that she was always breaking because they were designed for her to break them. There was nothing easier in life than getting three strikes when they wanted you to fail because you were wrong.

She was too old…too big…too skinny…her hair was the wrong color…her eyes were the wrong color…she had too many freckles…she sat wrong, walked wrong, talked wrong, thought wrong…Sophia could think of a billion and one ways that she'd been wrong throughout the years and so it had never taken too damn much to decide she was going to sock some kid in the mouth for saying just one more time what she'd already heard and what she already knew.

Things had been different here, though. She didn't feel as wrong as she'd felt before. She almost felt right here. As her time here had gone on she almost felt like she belonged here, and like Carol thought she belonged here.

Sure, Carol told her to watch her language…and she frowned at her sometimes when she went out to smoke…and she told her not to put her feet in the chairs when they were sitting at the table and not to drink out of her cereal bowl or to leave cups on the table in the living room…but those things weren't Sophia herself. The things that were wrong, and the things that Carol tried to get her to do differently, were just that. They were things that Sophia did. Sophia didn't feel like Carol thought that she was wrong.

And Sophia worked at the shop and no one there treated her like she was wrong. They gave her hell, but they all gave each other hell. It was a rite of passage, a welcome to the club, a sign that you belonged, and she'd rather have been given hell by Mac or Wren any day than not because it meant that they liked her enough to think up a variety of different ways to give her hell.

So she'd been able to tolerate every damn thing that had happened at the school because it didn't matter. School was eight hours a day she had to survive…eight hours she had to suffer through…and then she was going to go home and it wasn't going to be how the hell it had been before.

Knowing that made Hailey Jackson and her damn little bunch of preppy ass friends nothing more than minor nuisances. Sophia was learning to ignore what they said about her, what any of them said about her, and pay it even less attention than what Wren might say to try and get a rise out of her.

But when Hailey Jackson had started talking about Carol, Sophia wasn't sure what came over her. She wasn't going to let the little blonde bitch talk about Carol that way. She didn't know anything about what the hell she was talking about and it had rubbed Sophia wrong.

Admitting it, though, that would be the hard part. How was she going to tell Carol that the girl had been harassing her from the beginning of school, mouthing off to her in the hallways and whispering things to her in the classroom, always getting away with everything because she was perfect and her parents were perfect…and they were her parents? How was she going to tell Carol that she'd finally slammed her face into the locker because she couldn't stand knowing that the girl was talking about her? That she didn't care so much when it was just the same old same about Sophia and her background, which she knew well, but it felt different when the girl started really talking about Carol?

Sophia wasn't sure she was ready to admit how she felt about the whole situation, but she felt like, before this suspension was up, she was going to end up having to admit some of it if she wanted Carol to listen and not assume that she was just being the good old "troubled child" that she'd been forced to be her entire life.

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The pizza got there quickly and Carol sat the boxes open on the counter in the kitchen. She got plates and napkins out and glanced at Daryl who had done what she'd said and made himself "comfortable" at the table, but he looked anything but comfortable.

He was probably wondering, just like she was at the moment, what he was actually doing there. There was a mess going on with Sophia, who was still upstairs, and Carol hadn't even had the social skills to know not to invite another human being into her big ball of bad situations.

Carol absentmindedly rubbed at her shoulder. It was throbbing and she'd given up taking anything but a couple of aspirin here and there to dull the pain. She glanced at the clock and figured it was safe to take some more. If she and Sophia were going to discuss this, especially after dinner and after getting Daryl out of the house and where he might look a little less confused about why he was sitting at her table, she didn't need the pain to be clouding her ability to focus.

"I'm sure Sophia will be down in a minute," Carol said, going to the catch all drawer to fish out the bottle of pain killers that she'd tossed in there this morning. "Go ahead and get some pizza before it gets cold."

Daryl got up then and took one of the plates, putting a few pieces of pizza on it and taking it back to the table. Carol turned around, trying to get the bottle open.

"Need help?" Daryl asked.

Carol sighed and offered him the bottle. He took it and had the lid off so quickly that it made her chuckle.

"What they don't tell you is that your hand and your fingers…they take a little bit to start to work like they used to," Carol said with a sigh. "Thank you."

Daryl shrugged a little before sitting at the table. Carol popped the pills in her mouth and passed by the table to wash them down with the tea from her glass.

"No big deal," he said. "Seem like ya doin' pretty good with it. When I broke my hand I wasn't even usin' it like ya usin' ya arm for a while. Thought the damn thing might never work right again."

Carol sighed and fixed her pizza. She put the plate on the table and walked to the stairs, yelling up for Sophia for the second time.

She walked back into the kitchen and sat at the table.

"But it works now, right?" She asked. She chuckled. "There's light at the end of the tunnel?"

Daryl chuckled in response.

"Yeah…just hope ta fuck it ain't no damn train," Daryl said.

"You can start eating," Carol said. "I'm sure Sophia will come when she's ready."

Daryl picked up his pizza and bit it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Carol frowned. She caught herself before she corrected him to use his napkin as though he were Sophia and she almost laughed at herself. Maybe she'd already spent too much time at this game of trying to parent if she automatically felt it necessary to correct people's eating habits.

"Sophia ever got in a fight before?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Not since she's been here," Carol said.

Daryl nodded his head a little.

"Well, ya can bet the girl deserved it," Daryl said.

Carol put her elbows on the table and watched him eating. She frowned at him.

"Fighting isn't OK," she said. "I don't know what happened…but I'm not telling Sophia it was OK for her to hit the girl."

Daryl shrugged.

"Coulda hit Sophia first," he said.

Caryl snorted in disbelief.

"And then it's OK?" She asked.

"Hell yeah it is," Daryl said. "If the girl hit her then she's gotta stand up for herself…can't be lettin' people walk all over her."

Carol put her pizza slice on her plate and wiped her hand on the napkin in her lap.

"And if Sophia started it?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Then she ought notta be startin' shit," Daryl said. "Ain't no damn since in bullyin' people."

"Sophia didn't exactly look like anyone had hit her," Carol said. "They said she did it unprovoked."

She sighed and glanced back toward the staircase wondering what was taking the girl. It was probably the fact that Sophia was either ashamed of what had happened or she was still riled up. Sophia hid in that room whenever she was in a mood…just about any mood would do…and Carol thought she may very well have to finish dinner alone with Daryl and then just take pizza up to the girl and try to talk to her that way.

Daryl shook his head.

"Sophia ain't the kinda kid hits some damn body for no reason at all," Daryl said. He chuckled and his eyes locked on Carol for a minute. "She's got a hell of a temper an' I reckon if she was just gonna up and knock the shit outta someone she'd a done hit me or Wren by now for fuckin' with her."

"It's a lot different to hit a grown man than to hit a girl," Carol said.

Daryl nodded his head.

"Yeah…but if ya pissed off enough ya also 'bout ten feet tall an' bulletproof," Daryl said. "She ain't hit that girl just for no damn reason."

Carol sighed.

"Yeah…I don't think she did it for no reason either," Carol said. "But I don't know what the reason is and I can't tell her that it's OK to hit…it's just not."

Daryl grunted.

Carol could tell that she was dealing with a man who clearly didn't think there was anything wrong with hitting and it made her a little uncomfortable. She knew there were a good deal of "philosophies" that people had that circulated around when it was and wasn't OK to hit, but Carol thought that once they started allowing for a little bit of wiggle room…well Ed didn't start out the way he ended up when they took him to prison.

That had always been something that bothered her about her situation with Ed…about the things she'd heard people say. It was always easy for people to dismiss the whole thing and say that she'd been at fault. She'd stayed with him and she'd married him in the first place. People don't change…after all.

But they do change. Ed had changed…or he'd kept part of who he really was hidden. One or the other had happened. And it wasn't like it had started all at once and it wasn't like it had been the worst possible beating imaginable the first time he'd laid his hands on her. It had been bad…new and unexpected and terrifying for her…but it was new and she'd excused it. He'd been sorry afterwards, or at least he said he was, and accidents do happen.

And then it had just gotten worse. After enough times of forgiving him…each time things getting a little worse and a little worse…then she'd had a new kind of terror. The new terror was the terror that if she tried to leave he would kill her. And if that didn't happen, she knew well enough what he'd said and she had no real reason to doubt it was true. She'd get loose from him and no man would want her. She'd be alone for the rest of her life…and if she did find someone new, it would be worse. Ed had always acted like she should thank him for being easier on her than she deserved.

But of course these were the things that Carol never talked about and only some of the things that people never understood. People seldom understood the things they pretended to have "expert" opinions on. It's always easier to stand outside of the burning building and explain how you would handle the fire than it is to be standing right in the middle of the flames.

No, if Carol was going to be doing any kind of parenting, or anything that even resembled it in any stretch of the imagination…since she hardly thought what she was attempting to do with Sophia could be called parenting by anyone who knew what they were doing…she wasn't going to tell Sophia it was OK to hit people. She'd simply find out what happened between Sophia and this girl and she'd figure out another way for Sophia to go about dealing with the situation. There had to be much better alternatives than slamming faces into lockers.

Carol sighed again and glanced at the clock. It wasn't getting late really, but she was getting concerned about Sophia not coming down. She'd already called her twice and she was starting to feel like the girl wasn't coming voluntarily.

Carol sighed once more and ran her hand through her hair, picking at the pizza on her plate. Daryl stood up and Carol turned her face toward him, watching him get up.

"Don't reckon she's comin' down," Daryl said. "An' I really got some shit I gotta get done tonight…so I'ma roll on out."

Carol got up to walk him to the door. He'd scarfed down three pieces of pizza and had a pretty poor conversation with her. She frowned. She was pretty much a failure as a parent and she was obviously a failure as a host as well.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fuck ya sorry for?" He asked, wiping his hands on his pants as he headed toward her door.

"I know this wasn't a very good dinner," Carol said. "And Sophia…well…I've got to go and see if I can't pry her out of her room…or at least get her to let me in…"

Daryl chuckled a little.

"Thanks for the pizza…and good damn luck with the kid," Daryl said. "Don't worry too damn much about it…Sophia ain't gonna end up on America's Most Wanted by tomorrow."

Daryl opened the door and went out, stopping on the porch steps to light a cigarette.

"I hope you'll let me make you a decent dinner…" Carol said, hanging out the door. "Something to say thanks for giving up your whole day."

Daryl just nodded his head slightly and bit at his thumb nail.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Ain't hardly been my whole damn day yet," Daryl said.

He continued walking and Carol pulled the door shut. She fixed a plate with some pizza on it and made a glass of tea. She stood, for a moment, at the bar and tested the two to see which was easier for her to try to carry in her right hand and then she turned and started up the steps, hoping Sophia would open her door to accept the food…and that maybe she'd know what in the world she was supposed to say to the girl.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it has taken me a while here. Work has been crazy, it's not getting any better, and when I get done I've just been too tired to get into the zone for this one. I have this chapter for you, though, and I hope to have more soon. Sorry it's taken so long. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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"Sophia? Sophia…open the door…" Carol called from outside the bedroom. She was going to drop something and she was going to drop it soon. That was just the fact of the matter. Sophia wasn't opening the door, wasn't responding at all to her presence, and she'd never realized how much a glass of drink or a plate of pizza could weigh. "Please…sweetie…I'm about to make a really big mess…" Carol urged.

Either it was her tone or the threat of a mess, which tended to make Sophia's nerves shot even though it didn't bother Carol the way that it apparently had some of Sophia's other foster parents, but something made Sophia snatch the door open then.

The girl didn't say anything, but she did relieve Carol of her cargo and walked back into the room with it, putting it down on the nightstand. Carol walked in after the girl, intending to make full use of the access she'd been granted to the room.

Sophia plopped down on her bed then, hugging her pillow up to her and Carol was pretty sure that the girl had been crying.

"Can we talk about it?" Carol asked, sitting down on Sophia's bed with a sigh.

Sophia shook her head but didn't say anything.

Carol frowned. Sophia was, in a lot of ways, open about her emotions, but she was only very open about some of them. Some happened accidentally, and others she was completely closed down about.

"Sophia," Carol said, trying to soften her voice, "why did you break that girl's nose today?"

Sophia shook her head again and Carol sighed.

"Sophia…you've got to talk to me. You've got to apologize to that girl and it's going to be a lot easier for me to walk in there and talk to her parents if I know what's going on," Carol said. She was praying to whatever parenting gods there were that somehow she'd know how to do this…how to handle it. She hoped the girl couldn't see that she wasn't equipped for this at all. Nothing in her thirty three years had taught her how to be a parent to what they told her was a trouble teenager, and try as she might, she was simply flailing. "I do not…and I cannot…condone hitting, Sophia. But I want to know your side of the story."

"Does it matter?" Sophia asked softly. It was evident then that the girl had been crying and that she wasn't entirely finished when she opened the door because her voice was shaky.

Carol considered touching the girl, but still wasn't entirely sure how Sophia responded to uninvited touch.

"Of course it matters," Carol said. "What happened?"

"Hailey Jackson is a bitch," Sophia said. "She doesn't know when or how to keep her mouth shut. Maybe now when she thinks about running it, her stupid face will remind her that it's a bad damn idea."

Carol frowned.

"Did she say something to you?" Carol asked.

Carol didn't know what the girl might have said, but she could imagine that Sophia probably had a handful of verbal triggers to go with so many other triggers that she seemed to have. Carol felt like she was uncovering some of them, like some kind of morbid buried treasure, but she was sure for every one that she'd found there was probably a dozen more hidden deeper down.

Sophia didn't respond and Carol got to her feet with a sigh. She walked around the room, looking around. She hadn't been in here much since Sophia had settled in. It was Sophia's space, and she didn't like to pry.

On the wall there was a calendar where Sophia was marking off the dates. Carol figured, like most teenagers, she probably kept track until days that they were out of school. She knew that Sophia hated school…and now she wondered if Hailey Jackson had something to do with that since it didn't seem to be tests or homework or anything of the like that Sophia stressed about.

By the nightstand there was a stack of notebooks…school notebooks, Carol assumed. On the nightstand there were some pieces of paper and the one picture that Sophia had taken out of the baby book when she'd borrowed it to read it.

Other than that, the room was pretty much just the unused guest room that it had been. It lacked any feeling at all of being a teenager's room.

Carol picked up the picture from the baby book and noticed Sophia watching her. She looked at the picture…at her own younger face looking back at her…and then she put it back on the nightstand and Sophia's eyes dropped back to her knees.

Carol leaned against the wall nearest her.

"Why did you keep it?" Carol asked.

Sophia rolled her eyes up to look at her again and shrugged a little.

"You can have it back if you want it," Sophia said quietly.

Carol shook her head. She didn't know why the girl had kept it, but the way she'd looked at her when she'd picked it up let her know that Sophia had her reasons. The look she'd given her wasn't a look of someone who was watching you handle things that they didn't have any intention of keeping.

"No, I don't want it," Carol said. "It's just one of those things that hasn't ever gotten thrown out…it's nothing special."

Sophia shifted around on the bed and Carol noticed that, like a squirrel or something, there were items in the bed with her that she was squirreling away, probably hiding them from prying eyes. Carol thought it looked like a stuffed animal was up there or something…and another notebook.

Maybe Sophia had a diary. If Carol had been the prying type, she might try to read the damn thing to see if held any of the secrets of the locked vault on the bed in front of her, but she wasn't going to violate the girl's privacy that way.

"Sophia," Carol started again, moving from the wall she was leaning on back to the bed and sitting down once more by the girl. "Are you going to tell me why you hit or what she said to you?"

Sophia shook her head again.

Carol ran her fingers through her hair and sighed again.

"Fine," she said. "Then I want to use one of my questions."

Sophia looked at her out the side of her eye.

"Tell me, Sophia, why did you break Hailey Jackson's nose?" Carol asked.

Sophia glared at her and shook her head.

"That's stupid!" Sophia said. "You're going to use one of them on Hailey Jackson?"

Carol almost laughed. It was like she was suggesting spending rare gold doubloons or something. Carol held back the laugh, though, and nodded.

"They're mine, aren't they?" Carol asked. "That was the deal."

Carol sighed and Sophia continued to look at her as though she were committing some terrible act. Carol swallowed and smiled a little.

"My pride for the price of three questions," Carol said. "Redeemable whenever and however I choose, right? Why did you do it?"

Sophia scoffed. She didn't look like she wanted to cry anymore, though, and Carol thought maybe that was some kind of improvement.

"I'm not letting you waste one of your questions on this," Sophia said, her face deepening into something akin to anger.

Carol couldn't help but chuckle then.

"So does that mean you're going to tell me for free? Because one way or the other you're going to answer the question," Carol said.

Sophia sucked her teeth.

"She just runs her stupid mouth," Sophia said. "I told you that. She doesn't know how to shut the fuck up so I shut her up."

And suddenly the tears were brimming in Sophia's eyes again, but now they were angrier than before. Carol wanted to reach out and hug the girl. She had no idea what had happened or why it had happened, but it was evident the entire situation was causing the girl a good deal of pain and Carol couldn't believe it was just some simple teenage quarrel.

Carol nodded her head and reached out, gently resting her left hand on Sophia's shoulder. The girl didn't flinch exactly, but she did turn her head in the direction of Carol's hand a little.

"What did she say, Sophia?" Carol asked. "You've got to tell me what she said…why did it bother you so much? You can have two questions or three or however many it is…but you've got to tell me."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sophia said. "She was running her mouth…I slammed her face in the lockers to shut her up, isn't that enough? It worked."

"Sophia," Carol said. "We've got to go in there and you've got to apologize to her. I need to know what happened so I know what to say when they ask me about it."

"Tell her parents that they ought to teach her to keep her mouth shut," Sophia said. "Tell them that they shouldn't talk about things they don't know anything about and maybe she'd learn not to talk about it either."

Carol frowned and tried not to get annoyed, but she could feel a little of it building up.

"That's enough," Carol said. "I'm so sorry if she said something that hurt your feelings, but people are going to hurt your feelings, Sophia. Feelings heal and if people say stupid things then you're just going to have to start trying to ignore it. I know it hurts, but you can't go around slamming people's faces into things just because you don't like what they say."

Sophia got up from the bed then and stalked around the room a second and Carol could see frustration or anger, or both, radiating from the girl almost. Sophia stopped suddenly in her stalking and swung around, tears clearly on her cheeks now.

"I KNOW! I know that people are going to say things! Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I've heard every fucking word that everyone has ever said? I KNOW that people don't give a damn about hurting my feelings!" Sophia screamed when she turned.

Carol jumped. She wasn't expecting a blowup of that magnitude to come from the girl. She tried to keep her calm, though, figuring that maybe Sophia needed to get it out, and one of them losing their cool at a time was more than enough.

Carol nodded softly and took a deep breath, trying to make sure she was as calm as she could be to respond.

"I'm sure that you do know that, Sophia," Carol responded. "And I'm sorry that people have said things to hurt your feelings, but you just can't do things like you did today…"

Sophia cut Carol off.

"She wasn't talking about me? OK?" Sophia screeched, no more calm than she was before. "She's been talking about me since the first day that I got there! We had a stupid family planning project the third day I was there in stupid Biology class and she stood up and told the whole class that maybe I needed a different project because I didn't know who my family was! She never shuts up about me, but that's not why I slammed her stupid, ugly face into the lockers!"

Carol winced and frowned.

"Then what happened?" Carol asked, deciding she'd handle the project issue when she went to talk to the girl's parents and the principal, but for now she wanted Sophia to finish whatever breakdown or breakthrough or whatever it was that was happening.

Sophia's face curled up and tears welled in her eyes, but the anger was still evident on her face and in her hands that were balled up by her side.

"She was talking about _you_!" Sophia said. "She wouldn't stop talking about you and she doesn't know what she's talking about…she listened to her stupid parents with their stupid perfect teeth and her stupid smile…and she wouldn't stop! I stopped her!"

It hit Carol in more ways than one what Sophia was confessing at the moment, but she didn't even know how to sort it all out when Sophia was unglued in front of her like that.

Carol stood up and decided to hell with trying to avoid making Sophia uncomfortable with contact. The girl needed something, and Carol didn't have anything to offer that she thought might even begin to help her. Carol eased toward the girl and reached her arm out, touching Sophia behind the shoulder first, trying to see if the girl was going to take out the rest of her anger and frustration on her simply by accident.

Sophia jerked away from her first, but Carol didn't move, she kept her arm outstretched to the girl and was surprised when a moment later Sophia wrapped her arms around her, hugging her much tighter than was comfortable, but she didn't say anything. Sophia buried her face in her neck and the girl cried. Carol didn't stop her or try to make her control it in any way. She just wrapped her own arms gently around the girl and held her for the time that she wanted to stay there, sobbing and rubbing her damp face against the side of Carol's neck.

Carol didn't know if they stood there for an hour or for a few minutes. She felt her heart throbbing more at the tears of the girl than anything. There was so much hurt there…so much anger…and for someone so young. Carol hated knowing it was there and there was really nothing she could do about it.

Finally, though, Sophia pulled away, wiping at her face. Carol frowned, fighting back her own tears. She reached and stretched her sleeve over her hand, using it to wipe the girl's nose before she even really thought about it.

"Sophia," Carol said softly, trying to get the girl to look at her despite the fact that the girl clearly didn't want to look at her. "Sweetheart…you don't have to defend me, OK? It's OK if people talk about me."

Carol reached up and rubbed Sophia's back, trying to watch the girl's eyes as she mopped at her tears with her own sleeve.

"I promise you, sweetheart, it's OK…you don't have to defend me, and I don't want you getting in trouble over me," Carol said.

Sophia looked at her like she still might not be done with the bawling. She shook her head, swallowing hard.

"I don't want her to talk about you!" Sophia spat, part of it coming out with another sob bursting forth.

Carol nodded her head, feeling her own warm tears dripping from her eyes even though she'd done everything she could to try and will them back.

"I know, sweetheart…but it doesn't hurt me, OK? So don't let _me_…don't let anything about what they say about _me_…hurt _you_. They're just words…that's all…just words," Carol said.

Carol thought that good parenting probably required her to punish Sophia. It probably required her to ground the girl or yell at the girl…or at least to do something to her. The problem was that Carol doubted, at least at this moment, that her heart was on board with good parenting. At this moment she just felt like the girl was punished enough…not by her or anything she'd done…but maybe by life itself. She hadn't even had time to think over what Sophia had said or what she was going through, and she certainly hadn't had time to think about what it all meant or why it might even be important to the girl, but she didn't feel like she was in a place to punish Sophia at the moment.

Sophia was beginning to calm down a little now. Her face was changing from the bright red color that it had adopted and her breathing was evening out a little, though small sobs still tore through her now and again.

Carol swallowed.

"You need to eat," she said softly. "And I think you need to rest. We can talk about this a little more later…tomorrow maybe, OK?"

Sophia shook her head, but Carol ignored it, knowing it was a knee jerk response.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" Carol asked, wondering exactly what to do for the girl. "While you eat?"

Sophia shook her head.

"What do you want to do?" Carol asked, rubbing Sophia's back.

Sophia swallowed and it sounded a little choked. When her voice came out it was still shaky with sobbing.

"Stay here," Sophia said.

Carol nodded slightly and looked around, thinking that she might do something at least to make the room more hospitable if it was to be some sort of comfort zone or safe haven to Sophia.

"Fine, sweetheart, if you want to stay in your room, you can," Carol said, feeling a little defeated, but glad that at least the girl was opening up a little.

Sophia shook her head again, swallowing again and swiping at her face.

"I mean I want to stay here," Sophia said. Her face started to scrunch up again. "Here…with you…"

Sophia shook her head again, her eyes starting to fill back up.

"Don't send me away," Sophia said, dragon tears dropping to her cheeks.

Carol pulled the girl back to her in a hug again before she even realized she was doing the action. She rubbed her back, the girl's arms going around her again. Carol sighed.

"If you want to stay here…then I'm not sending you anywhere," Carol said. "This isn't about sending you away…this is about figuring out how to make it easier on you to stay."

Sophia pulled away again, nodding but still frowning deeply. Carol didn't want to push her to talk right now if she didn't want to. She knew the feeling of barely having it under control and she could tell that Sophia was suffering from just that feeling.

"Can you eat your dinner?" Carol asked, catching Sophia under the chin and pulling her face to look at her.

Sophia nodded slightly and Carol responded with a nod of her own.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Carol asked.

Sophia responded with another slight nod.

"Do you want to talk about it anymore or do you want me just to stay quietly?" Carol asked, still holding her chin.

"Just stay…" Sophia said in a breathy voice.

Carol nodded and sighed.

"Then that's what I'll do," she said.

Carol pulled Sophia to her in another hug for just a brief moment before she let go of the girl. She sat with Sophia while she ate, trying to figure out what to do for the girl and how to handle the situation so that Sophia was the one that came out the least hurt in the scenario.


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: This chapter is short, for me. I apologize for that. There were some parts that I deleted and I toyed with deleting the whole thing, but I've decided to leave it. Short or not, I'm trying to progress in the story and keep things moving. I hope to have more out soon, but this is what my feeble brain was able to come up with for this week. I'll blame it on it having been a long week. **

**I hope you enjoy it, though…let me know what you think! **

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Daryl lie on the well-worn mattress in his tin can trailer and listened to the familiar sounds of his brother bumping around in the kitchen, having come in late from probably a long night down at the local bar chasing skirt. Merle could be accused of being a lot of things, but quiet sure as shit wasn't one of them.

Daryl wasn't sleeping anyway, though, and he hadn't been sleeping since he'd drug his ass home from the shop, showered, and collapsed into the bed in his room.

Daryl sighed and got up, deciding to give up the show for the moment. He shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out one of the beers that was chilling in the vegetable drawer that had never actually been used for vegetables. Popping the top off of the glass bottle, he flicked it into the sink with a clank and sat at one of the mismatched chairs at the kitchen table.

Merle shuffled through a moment later, obviously having gone to relieve himself.

"Hell ya doin' still up?" Merle asked. He went to the fridge and helped himself to one of the beers, depositing the top on the counter. There was no damn wonder that the times…once or twice a year…that Daryl decided to clean the trailer he found damn beer tops all over the place.

"Couldn't sleep," Daryl responded, sucking on the beer. "Been down at the bar?"

Merle grunted.

Daryl didn't really need to ask the question. It was pretty evident that his brother was well on his way to being at least two sheets to the wind, if there was such a thing. Merle leaned back against the bright orange counter and looked like he was trying to focus extra hard on what Daryl could only imagine were the knobs on the stove.

"D'ja get'cha lil' girlfriend a car?" Merle asked.

Daryl grunted in response.

"Carol ain't my girlfriend…" he said for what was about the four thousandth time in the past few days. "Did find a car, though…was ya there when Wren called 'bout Sophia?"

"Mmmm…" Merle hummed. "Hell I don't know what Wren was doin'…weren't payin' the skinny fuck no damn attention."

"Sophia got suspended," Daryl said with a chuckle. "Broke a bitch's nose."

"Wait…who broke a bitch's nose?" Merle asked, draining the beer in his hand and moving to the fridge for another, the top clanking off somewhere on the floor to be found sometime in the future.

"Sophia," Daryl responded. "Wendy…"

Merle chuckled heartily this time.

"No she didn't?" Merle exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He chuckled and nodded his head. "Damn…figured her for a scrapper but Wren ain't said shit 'bout her breakin' no bitch's nose."

"Doubt Wren knew," Daryl responded. "He just got the call I reckon ta find Carol. Called down there where we was buyin' the car."

Merle was quiet for a moment and then moaned again, considering carefully the label on his bottle.

"Said ya got a fuckin' car?" Merle asked.

Daryl nodded and polished off his own beer, only somewhat surprised when another appeared in front of him. Merle, like most drunks, was a heavy handed and quick bartender when they suspected they might be going from drinking along to drinking accompanied.

"Yeah…had ta talk Rod down…his ass'll try ta fuck ya ever damn time," Daryl responded, popping the top off the beer Merle had handed him and taking aim with the cap, a little satisfied when it clinked and bounced in the metal sink just beside his brother. Merle looked at the source of the sound for a moment and then turned his heavy eyes back toward Daryl.

"Yeah…" Merle growled, licking his lips in a way that made Daryl unconsciously raise his. "I bet'cha stopped ole Rod from fuckin' her."

Merle smirked at Daryl and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Ya fuck her yet?" Merle asked. "Mmm…lil' brothah get him a lil' thank ya piece for pickin' outta new car for the nice laaaddyy?"

"Shut up, Merle. I ain't fucked her an' ya know it," Daryl said.

Merle's face dropped a little and he sucked on the beer in his hand.

"Yeah…don't I know it. Ya fuckin' dick might as well fall off for all the damn good it's ever done ya," Merle said. "Got me a real sweet piece tonight…blue eyed, blonde was damn near suckin' ole Jose Cuervo's dick…ole Merle laid it to her real nice."

Daryl cringed, his face curling up at his brother. Merle laughed and sucked his teeth, satisfied with himself, before resting back again against the counter and sucking more of the beer down.

"Fucked her real good in the back seat a' her car. Shit's damn near like an art…but'cha wouldn't know nothin' 'bout that…" Merle continued.

"Who the fuck was it?" Daryl asked. He didn't care much about his brother's many conquests, but Merle would talk about them all the damn time. If he ever had a name to go with any of them then sometimes Daryl found it humorous to hold onto the name until he ran into the woman. Sooner or later any woman Merle fucked seemed to find her way up to the shop, and Daryl thought it was funny at least to see how different Merle's conquests were the night of and a few months later. Merle was a living tribute to beer goggles.

Merle shrugged.

"Fuck if I know," he said. He chuckled after a second. "Ashley, maybe? Fuckin' Alexandria? Hell…shit started with A, that's all the hell I know. Don't matter, though…ya can bet her ass is gonna 'member my name…"

Merle got another beer and Daryl watched him. He was surprised that his brother wasn't in the floor by now, but Merle had the ability to hold more alcohol than most people could water. Daryl supposed that his brother ought to have some talent in life since he sure as shit didn't possess much else.

Merle chuckled and took the mismatched chair across the table from Daryl, sitting down hard enough to elicit a light cracking sound from the chair. Daryl waited to see if it would break, but apparently it was made of better stuff than he gave it credit for.

"Glad the ho looked clean," Merle said. "Fuckin' condom broke…didn't tell her my last fuckin' name. She ain't gon' 'member no way, though."

Daryl shook his head and sighed.

"Well that's just fuckin' great, Merle," Daryl said. "Real smart. Fuckin' women ya don't even know with faulty ass condoms."

Merle chuckled.

"Hell brothah…if ya ever got'cha a piece a' ass in ya life ya'd prob'ly know that shit ain't never foolproof," Merle said.

"An' you a damn fool, alright," Daryl said.

Daryl sighed and got up from the table. He finished his beer quickly and set the bottle on the counter with the other bottles that were accumulating there.

"Goin' ta fuckin' bed," he announced.

"Derlina…" Merle said, stopping him for a moment. He hated when his brother called him that, but he'd long since stopped fighting it because fighting anything with Merle just made it worse. "Ya oughta lay it ta ya lil' girlfriend…put'cha fuckin' dick ta some use for it shrivels up."

Daryl walked by, smacking his brother in the head before reaching the hallway. Merle clucked behind him, laughing.

"Just 'member ta dust it off first," Merle called. "That shit gets wet an' it'll stick ta damn near everythin'!"

Daryl's only response to Merle at this point was to slam the bedroom door.

Once he was alone in his room, Daryl went straight into the little half bath. He'd won a poker game against Merle the first night they'd moved into the trailer…mostly owing to the fact that Merle was too fucked up on whatever he'd gotten his hands on to even play poker…and because of that he'd gotten the so called "master" bedroom of the sardine can sanctuary they shared.

It wasn't much of a master bedroom, but it did have a half bath that meant that Daryl got to spend less time wallowing around in the filth that Merle could turn anything into that he frequented regularly.

Daryl washed his face with cold water and dried it with one of the towels that he'd put in the bathroom, sniffing the towel as he did so and recognizing that sooner or later he was going to have to break down and do laundry.

Merle was a dick. Daryl had been thinking about Carol all damn day long and Merle talking about her that way wasn't helping the situation much.

The biggest problem that Daryl had right this minute was that he didn't know why he was thinking about her. He couldn't get her smile out of his mind, though…those big damn blue eyes. She was pretty when she smiled…and he couldn't get that shit out of his mind.

Daryl didn't give a damn about women. He wasn't like his brother. He didn't need to go out chasing skirt all the damn time. The couple of fucks he'd had weren't anything that left his mouth watering for more, and that's how the hell he liked it. He didn't have the time or the patience for that shit.

He'd seen some of the damn harpies that Merle got tangled up with. Some crazy bitches had shown up at their door…or found them in parking lots sometimes…and there was too much damn squawking and yelling that went on for Daryl's tastes. This one got her feelings hurt because Merle didn't call the next damn day…that one got her feelings hurt because her old man found out about that shit…a scare here or there, or just the sad and sorry fact, of the clap or some other grand prize in the treasure chest of VD.

Daryl didn't need that shit and so he'd made do his whole damn life with as little of it as possible. Women weren't anything but trouble, just like anyone else in the world really. And they thought that because they had pussies they were somehow special. They thought they could drag you around just because of a damn piece of their anatomy.

But Daryl didn't see the same kind of woman in Carol that he'd seen in so damn many of the women he'd come into contact with in his life. She was different…or there was something different about her.

And he didn't even know why he'd been thinking about her since he'd left her house from eating pizza, but she'd crept into his mind, somehow, when he was supposed to be working on that old coupe. The whole damn time he'd been working, he'd seen her face in his mind…heard her voice…and he'd caught himself wondering how things had gone with Sophia.

He was trying to keep himself, though, from letting his mind trail anywhere else that any of the assholes he worked with…or even his own damn brother for that matter…might suggest that it go. The last damn thing he needed in his life was to get tangled up with some woman and start thinking about her that way. He wasn't like Merle and he had absolutely no interest in running around after women and then having them show up, at all damn hours, jumping at him for one damn thing or another that had gone wrong in his life. Sex sure as shit wasn't worth all of that. He really didn't even need it. Hell, he hardly ever even thought about it.

And Carol wasn't that kind of woman. That much was clear. She was a mother, for crying out loud, of a girl that was half Daryl's age.

Still, his stupid head was playing tricks on him and he didn't know if it was something to do with Carol…something to do with the pull of the damn moon…or even if it was just because of all the shit that everyone around him had been suggesting to him over the past few days, but he just couldn't shake the image of her out of his head.

Daryl sighed, annoyed at himself and annoyed at the situation. He got back into bed, closing his eyes, tight, her face just beyond his eyelids. He hoped it would go away soon enough and he'd at least be able to get a good night's sleep…preferably not one filled with dreams if this was how his brain was going to act…so he could be ready to go the next damn day.

Despite his best efforts, though, when Daryl finally did start to drift off to sleep he was still thinking about the shy woman with the pretty blue eyes and the scrapper for a daughter who had invited him to dinner…if he ever wanted to take her up on such an offer.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Hi everyone and happy Friday! I thought I'd get another little chapter done here for those of you who are interested. We're moving on. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol didn't know what to do about Sophia, and it weighed heavy on her mind as she slipped into bed and wished to slip into sleep just as easily. She knew that reason would dictate that she needed to punish the girl for her actions, but her heart wasn't in it.

She felt like Sophia had already been punished for a multitude of crimes…crimes that she never committed. And Carol knew exactly what it felt like to feel that you were paying a debt of sorts that you owed simply for being alive it seemed. It was a debt that you could never finish paying. You could never even be sure of what the limitations to your sentence might be since you were never fully aware of what your crime was.

Carol had paid such a debt at the hands of Ed for all those years. She'd been sentenced to whatever he wanted to do to her simply for being herself and for having trusted her foolish mind and her traitor heart that had worked to convince her that he loved her and that they would be happy together. She'd taken herself right up to her captor and turned herself in, and the only reason she'd ever escaped was because he'd tried to kill her and he'd failed.

But really who could Sophia even say were her jailers? Who were the people carrying out her sentence? That was, perhaps, the cruelest part of Sophia's situation. It would appear that, thus far, in Sophia's life, everyone had been part of the plan. No one had offered her a safe place to land, and as a result, she seemed to automatically assume that everyone was guilty and would eventually step into their role, the guillotine raised.

Sadly enough, it was a logical way of thinking from what she'd been taught by experience and Carol felt for her. She could only imagine the horror of being trapped in a life where everywhere she looked, everyone she saw looking back at her was just another reflection of Ed, like being trapped in a funhouse full of carnival mirrors where Ed could take any shape or any size, but in the end it was still just Ed and anything that made it seem otherwise was just a trick with smoke and mirrors.

So Carol felt that she wasn't prepared to punish Sophia. The girl understood that she shouldn't have done what she'd done. She had shown restraint before, but Carol supposed that everyone had their breaking point and Sophia had apparently reached hers. What Carol was prepared to do was go with Sophia when she was expected apologize.

And yes, Sophia would apologize for what she'd done. All the details of the situation aside, Sophia had reacted poorly and she owed the girl with the broken nose an apology, but that wouldn't be the only thing that Carol would make sure was said that day.

She was going to address the girl's parents, and the principal, about the girl's actions toward Sophia as well, and about heir apparent actions as parents. She didn't know why it was that her name and her situation should be in the mouths of these people that she didn't think she even knew, but she didn't appreciate it, and it certainly didn't belong in the mouth of their teenage daughter to be used as some kind of ammunition to get at Sophia and to make her life any more difficult than it already was.

The fact that it had been something about Carol and not about Sophia herself that had spurred the girl to violence surprised Carol. She hadn't realized, until tonight, that Sophia had even abandoned her plan to try to run away, and it wasn't because of any agreement that they had made. Apparently the girl had some genuine interest in staying, but Carol didn't even know what to do with that or why Sophia would want to stay.

Perhaps something…anything…was better than nothing to Sophia. Perhaps even having Carol as a parent was better than having no one at all.

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"I'm going to pick up a cake now. Sophia won't tell me anything that she wants…and I know she's really into all this car stuff that she's doing with you all…so is there anything she might like for that? Anything she needs?" Carol asked.

Daryl watched the woman as she shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. Daryl tried to redirect his eyes from noticing how her hips rocked back and forth with the action.

"Yeah…" Daryl said, slightly distracted. He cleared his throat. "No…I mean Mac keeps everything we need here an' she just uses the stuff we got…mine…Wren's. Can't think a' nothin' special she could be needin'. I could ask wren if he thinks a' somethin'…" Daryl offered.

Carol chewed at her bottom lip. Daryl hadn't expected to see her there this morning, but she'd pulled up and walked right into the shop like she owned the place. She'd bypassed Merle who was busy doing some welding and so much in his zone that he wouldn't have noticed if the Queen of England herself had come by Mac's…bypassed Wren who was watching the door to see if anyone would come…and had come straight to stand over Daryl awkwardly while he was working.

She hadn't even said anything at first and the only reason that Daryl even really became aware of her presence was because he got that odd and overwhelming sensation that you were being watched…that there was someone behind you. He'd finally seen her then.

And she'd explained to him that it was Sophia's birthday…and she'd explained to him a whole other boatload of shit that he didn't even listen to, but it sounded like she was basically trying to talk herself out of a hole over whether or not she was doing the right thing by allowing Sophia to have some kind of surprise birthday dinner thing, even though the girl was on suspension for having broken the other girl's nose.

And apparently Sophia was on restriction…and so she was at the house cleaning, thinking that cleaning the house was her punishment…which it was…but it was also to get things ready for the surprise that she didn't know about.

All in all, Daryl was beginning to feel his mind scramble at Carol's rambling explanations about things. She was apparently feeling guilty or something about the situation and needed to get it off her chest…or either she just really didn't have no damn body to talk to and had saved it up for as long as she could go without busting.

Whatever the case, now Daryl was standing outside on the cement pad, smoking his second cigarette since she'd started talking, and she was standing a couple of feet in front of him, her arms crossed across her chest, rocking back and forth on her feet.

And she wanted him to help her figure out what to get Sophia for her birthday…because she probably hadn't ever had a birthday present before…and Daryl had no idea what to tell her or how he'd been the one to get trapped in this. He was looking for every chance he got to call Wren out there to act as some sort of buffer.

"Do you think he would have any ideas?" Carol asked. She shaded her face with her hand, her eyes searching Daryl out. He cleared his throat again.

"Hell, if anyone does it's Wren," Daryl said. "Comin' up with gifts is like comin' up with bullshit…an' I reckon he's got a lotta practice at one of 'em."

Daryl excused himself a moment and walked toward the open shop stall. He called for Wren, but really it was a waste of time to call for him. Wren popped up in a matter of seconds and Daryl knew that he'd been hovering around, just inside the shop, listening to every damn word that Carol had said about Sophia and her situation.

"What'cha need?" Wren asked, popping out the shop door and quickly lighting a cigarette that he'd kept stored behind his ear.

Carol turned her attention to Wren, almost having to drop her eyes to meet the little man's stature.

"It's Sophia's birthday," Carol said. "She won't tell me anything she wants and I thought that y'all might have some ideas. Something special…something she might like to have with all this car stuff she's doing."

Wren looked at Daryl and Daryl shrugged at him. He wasn't good at the gift giving shit. He couldn't recall ever giving a gift to anyone.

Wren blew out the smoke from his cigarette with a loud whistle.

"Well…now…let's see…she's how old?" Wren asked.

"Sixteen," Carol offered.

Wren walked a little circle and Daryl realized the man was chasing a leaf with his shoes while he thought. He turned abruptly and stuck his head just inside the shop again.

"Merle…Merle…" he called. When Merle, captured entirely by the welding he was working on, didn't respond, Wren reached into the door and flipped off his machine.

Daryl could hear Merle coming up for air from his project, cussing the faulty equipment of the shop and then Wren chuckled and stepped back outside.

"Fuck you, Wren!" Merle called, coming to the machine that was near the open shop door. Daryl could hear him, but knew that Merle wasn't aware that they were all gathered out there. He probably thought Wren had merely switched off the machine to fuck with him a bit.

"What'cha give a sixteen year old girl?" Wren called out to Merle, scuffing his shoes on the cement to destroy his recently captured leaf.

Merle chuckled from inside.

"Hell…I know what I'd give her…what she look like?" Merle called back.

Daryl closed his eyes and shook his head.

Merle came out the shop door then, his welding visor lifted but still on his head, chuckling all the while. As soon as she came out, though, and his eyes fell on the fact that they weren't alone at the shop, Daryl could swear that his brother turned a lighter shade.

Merle stood still for a moment and then reached up to flip his visor back down, covering his face.

"Hell, Wren…I don't know what the fuck ya give no kid," Merle responded, turning on his feet. "An' don't'cha fuck with my shit no more. Mac's gonna give me one a' his damn lectures if this job ain't done today an' he don't pay overtime for hours he wasted runnin' his damn mouth."

Merle disappeared and Wren chuckled, rocking back on his heels and craning his neck to watch Merle head back to work.

Daryl looked at Carol who looked relatively unphased by the pigs he worked with…his brother included.

"Ya got any damn ideas, Wren?" Daryl asked with a huff. He needed to get back to work and already he didn't know how long he'd been out here just listening to her go on about the fact that it was Sophia's birthday and she wasn't even sure what the hell to do about it.

"I'm thinkin'…" Wren said.

Daryl thought that might very well be cause for celebration, but he didn't say anything. He nipped at the skin on his thumb and watched Carol out of the corner of his eye. She was standing there, now with her hands on her hips, her weight shifting stopped. She was watching Wren and waiting with patience that a saint would envy.

Finally Wren looked up.

"I know what the hell ya get her…" Wren said. "Get her her own damn tool box."

"Hell kinda gift is that?" Daryl asked. He couldn't even remember where he'd gotten the one on the back of his truck from. If he remembered correctly it had been the old and cast out toolbox from one of the men that he'd worked with…probably when he was about Sophia's age. It seemed like an odd gift for a sixteen year old girl.

"What the fuck you gonna get her? Lippystick an' a dress?" Wren asked.

When Carol snorted, trying to stifle a laugh, Daryl looked up and smiled at her.

"OK…" she said. "So where can I get a toolbox? Do they sell them at the hardware store?"

"Hell yeah they do," Daryl said.

"No…not that kind…" Wren protested. "Get her a chest…Snap On man comes by today. Pick her out a nice little one…nothing too fancy. Just something to be hers."

Carol smiled at Wren and Daryl didn't know why, but it bothered him a little that Wren had come up with the idea to make Carol smile like that.

"What's the difference?" She asked.

"Ain't no damn difference 'cept one's a lil' damn bigger than the other," Daryl said. "An' ya take one with ya, but half the damn time when ya gotcha one like Wren's talkin' 'bout ya leave it where the fuck it sits."

Wren nodded.

"Right over there in that corner," Wren said, pointing. "Beside that black one that's mine…we'll set her up a lil' one…might even have her one all in pink or whatever. It can be her corner. Hell…I got a couple tools that ain't the best. She could have 'em…get her started."

Daryl felt his cheeks burn a little at the genuine smile that Carol offered Wren for that. Then she shook her head and glanced between them.

"I don't know how to get one, though," she said. She looked at her wrist and Daryl remembered she was somewhat pressed for time. Apparently, according to her story, she'd taken her leave of Sophia by saying that she had a doctor's appointment and had to pick up a few things, but she wouldn't have half the day to hang around the shop and wait for the truck to come by.

"Daryl here'll pick ya one out," Wren said. "He'll even set it up for her…right over there in the Wendy Corner."

Carol was looking at Daryl now. He swallowed and scratched the back of his neck.

"Hell…ain't no damn big deal ta pick a chest off the truck," Daryl offered. "I could set it up for her…but I don't know how ya gonna give it to her."

Carol wrinkled her forehead, apparently not having thought of how to deliver her present.

"Bring her by here," Wren offered. "Daryl works late…he can let her in and you can show her how we got her all set up for you. Tell her we work like Santa's little elves…got it all done for you."

Daryl thought that if Carol hadn't been there he'd point out that Wren looked like an elf…but he would let it slide since she was there and didn't know how she'd respond to their badgering. He did hate to have such an opportunity to rib Wren wasted, though.

Carol smiled again and looked at Daryl.

"Would you mind?" She asked. "I don't want to bother you if you're working…"

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't nothin' but a thing ta let'cha in. Hell, door'll prob'ly be open. Ain't cold enough ta shut it even when ya out here workin' at night," Daryl said.

Carol smiled and nodded at both of them.

"Then can you get it and just let me know how much I owe you?" She asked, glancing between the two of them. Daryl nodded slightly and Wren nodded with more enthusiasm, fishing another cigarette out of his pocket and carefully straightening it.

"I wanted to invite you all to dinner," Carol said with a little hesitation. "Wives welcome too," she said, directing her attention at Wren. "It's not going to be much…just something for Sophia…and I'm going to get her a cake."

Daryl felt his cheeks burn again and he didn't know why the hell it irritated him, but something had gotten under his skin at the moment.

"Oooh eeeee," Wren declared, lighting the cigarette. "That's a nice little invitation but Nelly and I don't eat out all too often."

"He means ta say he'll be drunk by dinner," Daryl responded.

Wren smirked.

"I'm not drunk by dinner," Wren responded. "I drink my dinner…big damn difference."

"Oh…" Carol said, her voice dropping. "No…I mean it's not a big deal. I guess I just wanted to do something for her and she just doesn't seem to have any friends…"

"Get her the toolbox," Wren said. "An' Daryl here…he ain't never drunk by dinner. Reckon he'd hold down a chair at the table for ya."

Wren tipped his head at her and turned then, going back inside. Daryl heard the motor of Merle's machine stop abruptly and he heard Merle begin to cuss and spit again.

Carol giggled a little, her hand going up to cover her mouth.

She didn't move her hand at first, she just stood there with it covering her mouth, looking at Daryl. Daryl felt his cheeks get hot under the intense stare she was giving him and he turned his attention to looking for a cigarette, uncomfortable with the attention that the woman seemed to give him whenever she was in his presence.

"Did Robert Wren just accept the dinner invitation for you?" Carol asked after a second, dropping her hand from in front of her mouth.

Daryl shook his head.

"Sounds like he did…" Daryl said.

"If you don't want to come…" Carol started. She broke off and Daryl tried desperately to figure out if he should accept or decline, for some reason feeling pulled in both directions. Before he could come up with an answer, though, Carol started speaking again. "I do owe you a real dinner, though…and it would mean a lot to Sophia I'm sure. If you're busy, though, it's fine."

Daryl shook his head, knowing he was going to kick his own ass for this later.

"Nah…" he said. "It's good…uh…dinner sounds right nice. I can wait here for y'all an' then follow ya over after she sees her gift."

Carol smiled at him, the big and warm smile that she'd been wearing earlier and he tried to hide the fact that he felt oddly pleased that it was directed at him.

Daryl cleared his throat.

"Gotta get my ass back ta work," he said. He was slowly calculating all the time he'd lost out here talking to her. He wasn't used to being one of the people in the shop not working.

"Sorry!" Carol said quickly, her eyes getting big. "I didn't mean to keep you. I guess…what time should we come by?"

Daryl glanced at the sky really more for the sake of thinking than in search of any answer.

"Six thirty?" He asked.

Carol smiled again and nodded.

"Thank you!" She said. She started to turn to get into her car that she'd parked to the side. "Tell Wren thanks for me too…"

Daryl nodded and waved at her quickly.

"Six thirty…" She called, just before she got in her car.

"Six thirty…" Daryl mumbled to himself.


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: After my feelings being all over the place after the episode this week, I'm trying to just write what needs to be written in my fics to get my Caryl brain there. I decided to update this one since I knew this chapter was coming.**

**It's longer, but there was a lot that needed to happen here. **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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Wren's loud mouth ass had wasted absolutely no time in informing Merle, as soon as Carol left, that Daryl was going to eat dinner at her house. A real fucking dinner. It didn't seem to matter to the Oompa Loompa type figure wandering around in his paint suit that it was a birthday dinner for Sophia. Wren saw it entirely as some romantic damn candlelit dinner for Daryl and Carol.

And Merle thought it was the most hilarious shit he'd heard all damn day.

So Daryl had tried to stay out of the way of both of them. When the truck came asking what they needed as far as supplies went, Daryl hovered to the side while Wren wandered around among the man's wares like he was some kind of car care gypsy or something. He found a nice new toolbox…yellow, not pink…and Daryl helped them unload it for Sophia and get it set up. Other than that, and dropping a few of his old tools with his name scratched into them into the chest to go along with what Merle and Wren contributed…and what Mac contributed against his knowledge since he was out of the shop for the day dealing with some court shit with his soon to be fifth or sixth ex wife, Daryl stayed to the projects he had to complete.

Just before it was closing time, at a quarter to six, Wren had disappeared as he customarily did. When he got back, Daryl was still on the shop floor on the roll around, working at a particularly damaged piece they were trying to salvage.

The short man walked in, making a couple of rounds, to distribute the beer he'd picked up for Merle and to put one of his own six packs to the side so he could nurse it while they finished cleaning up.

Wren walked over to Daryl then and sat a twelve pack on the floor near him.

"Merle and me, we chipped in," Wren said. "Ain't boxed wine, but ya ought to take something to dinner," Wren said.

Daryl eyed the beer and wondered how Carol would respond to such an offering. He didn't know if she drank beer. Honestly, he didn't know if she drank at all. He didn't know too much about her and it might not be the best idea to show up to a kid's birthday dinner with a twelve pack.

"Don't need it…ya can drink it," Daryl growled, lighting a cigarette from the smashed pack in his pocket and turning his attention back to the piece he was working with.

"Don't be like that, lil' brothah…" Merle called from where he was sweeping up the mess on the floor in his area. "Might loosin' ya up…do a lil' somethin' for Bat Woman too. Just remember what the fuck I told ya an' dust that shit off first."

Merle chuckled and Daryl curled his lip just before Wren flung a box into his lap. Daryl picked it up, cursing a little as hot cigarette ash dropped on his pants leg. This was one of the best damn pair of jeans he had. He'd slipped over to the damn little tin can earlier to wash at least part of the grim off himself and to put on some halfway clean clothes, though he wasn't even sure why the hell it mattered. It wasn't like Sophia didn't know how damn dirty you got after a day at the shop…and he doubted Carol even noticed that kind of shit. She was probably used to her kid tracking in ten pounds of dust and metal shavings every day.

When Daryl studied the box he realized it was an unopened box of condoms and he looked up to question Wren, but the short man had already disappeared to wet his whistle with the first of the six pack that he'd suck down before he headed home, at least another case waiting on him in his truck.

"Fuckin' hell is this shit?" Daryl asked.

Merle and Wren both laughed then. Both the annoying fuckers were in on this.

"Just thought you might oughta be prepared," Wren said, leaning back on the work table with a satisfied smirk and sucking down half a beer in one swig. "Can't never be too damn safe…unless you want some little Bat Babies."

A chorus of "eeks" rang out from Merle and Daryl growled to himself.

"Go fuck yourselves," Daryl growled.

He got up, slipping the box in his pocket, and dusted off his pants legs before he started gathering everything up to put away.

"Don't be sour, Derlina," Merle called. "We just lookin' out for ya…want'cha ta get'cha some…an if it's Bat Woman ya get it from…hell she ain't quite a double bagger."

Wren chuckled and shook his head.

"Hell no…she's more like them economy size bags you get down at the Dollar General…if it slips off you might not even lose ya concentration," Wren said.

Daryl shook his head, hating the two men and wishing that as the clock crawled forward in its slow marking of the hours that they would disappear and go on to whatever extracurricular drinking activities they were going to use to fill their evening.

While Daryl cleaned and got the shop ready to close up so that all he'd have to do was wait on Carol to get there with Sophia, the other two men stood around and pantomimed usefulness while spouting their "words of wisdom" at him about what to do about Carol. He didn't respond to them and he honestly only half listened to them, glancing at the clock every now and again and hoping they took their rowdy asses out of there instead of staying to stare and hoot at him when Carol and Sophia did show up.

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Dinner had gone well, or at least Daryl had thought it went well. Sophia had been pleased as punch about the tool chest, and she'd stood a good fifteen minutes sorting through the tools they'd dropped in haphazardly and arranging them in her drawers.

Merle and Wren, by the grace of God Daryl thought, had left about ten minutes before Carol and Sophia got there, though Wren left the news with Daryl that if Sophia wanted to paint the toolbox a different color, he'd let her spray it…and so far he hadn't let her spray anything.

Daryl thought she might be more excited about that than anything else. The kid had been itching to spray something. For her it was like being allowed to paint something in the booth was going to mean that she'd finally arrived or some shit. Daryl thought it was funny, but then when he looked back on his own experiences he had to admit that he'd been pretty damn excited about that shit too.

Her gift given and well received, Sophia had offered Carol a hug and then hugged Daryl. He wasn't exactly comfortable with it and he wasn't really into hugs and shit, but he'd kept his mouth shut, considering it his own personal gift to her that he didn't harass her ass about that shit.

And then they'd come to the house and Carol had served up a damn fine meal in Daryl's personal opinion. He couldn't remember the last damn time he'd eaten anything halfway like it. She'd served up chicken fried steak, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes, and Daryl had smothered half his plate in the gravy that was so damn good he'd have drank it straight from the bowl if he'd been given the chance.

Most of the time he was the one that did the cooking for him and Merle…and that was assuming shit got cooked. They ate a lot of pizza and they ate a lot of those freezer meals that came in the plastic trays. Home cooking wasn't something either one of them prided themselves in, and Daryl couldn't really remember a time that he'd eaten regular meals that didn't come in plastic trays.

He'd even accepted seconds when Carol had offered it, though he'd had a moment of guilt and wondered if she thought he was being hoggish by eating twice as much as both her and Sophia. It was so damn good, though, that his desire to eat the food soon outweighed his guilt and he'd accepted a second heaping of everything.

And Carol had grinned the whole time she dished it up, so either it didn't piss her off too damn bad or she was such a good host that she knew how to hide that shit.

"Now it's cake time!" Carol announced, coming to the table from having cleared the dishes.

"You got a cake too?" Sophia asked.

Daryl glanced at the girl. He'd never had a birthday party that he could recall, so he didn't really know what the hell was standard for them, but he figured cake was always part of the damn deal. Still, Sophia didn't even look sixteen right now. The mere mention of her damn birthday cake made her look like she was about five. She shifted around in her chair, pulling her legs up under her and perching on her knees.

Carol smiled in response.

"I almost dropped it trying to bring it in," Carol said. "So Daryl, could you carry it to the table for me?"

Daryl grunted his acceptance and got up from the table, only then really realizing how damn full he was. He followed Carol into a little laundry room and watched as she uncovered the cake that she'd gotten for Sophia.

It was too damn big for three people, that much was evident. The cake was a car, but it looked more like a child's drawing of a car than a real car, and across it in icing it had "Happy Birthday Sophia!" written.

Daryl smiled at it.

For just one damn moment he felt like a kid himself looking at the cake. He supposed that even if it was a suck ass rendition of a car, it was a nice birthday cake.

Daryl picked it up, careful not to drop it, and carried it to the table with Carol following behind him with a box of candles.

And Sophia's damn eyes lit up. She watched as Carl shoved the flimsy ass little birthday candles into the cake and Daryl watched between the both of them.

Wren and Merle's words were running around inside his brain and he almost cursed himself as he sat down abruptly hoping his cock wasn't listening to anything his head had to say right now. They'd talked this shit up all afternoon and now he was like some kind of sick fuck watching a woman who was putting damn candles in her kid's birthday cake and noticing shit like the way her baggy sweater fell open a little…and he was wondering what the hell her breasts were like. All the while she was getting this stupid ass cake ready.

The only thing that saved Daryl and distracted him at all was when Carol said something about lighting the candles and Sophia went in search of her lighter in her pockets, apparently not finding it immediately.

"I got this shit," Daryl said, pulling his own lighter out of his pockets and leaning over to light the sixteen candles. "Make a fuckin' wish," he growled at Sophia.

He didn't know if the kid made a wish or not, but she blew every one of the candles out before Carol started serving the cake up on these little saucer plates she'd brought to the table.

"What'cha wish for?" Daryl asked, leaning back in his chair and eating a bite of the cake despite the fact he already felt like he'd eaten too damn much.

"No!" Carol said suddenly. "You can't tell…birthday wished don't come true if you tell them!"

Daryl chuckled merely at how serious she sounded about this shit. Sophia rocked back on her heels, still sitting oddly in her chair, and ate at the cake in silence, glancing over at Carol from time to time and then at Daryl.

"What kind of car do you think it was supposed to be?" Sophia asked after a moment.

Carol shrugged and looked at Daryl, a half smile permanently painted on her face it seemed. Daryl shrugged too.

"Weren't shit," he said. "Just a damn car, I reckon."

"Looked like a Mustang to me," Sophia said.

Daryl eyed what was left of the car. That car wasn't anything but the stock example of a car that a kid might draw. It certainly wasn't a Mustang.

"Weren't no damn Mustang," he said. "Weren't nothin'."

"I think it could have been a Mustang," Carol said through a fork full of cake.

"What the fuck ya know 'bout cars?" Daryl asked.

Carol chuckled, quickly wiping at the table with her napkin when bits of cake flew out of her mouth.

"Nothing," she said. "But if Sophia thinks it was a Mustang…I guess it could be a Mustang."

Carol cocked her eyebrow at Daryl and he figured he was just supposed to play along with this shit so he grunted at her that he supposed it was just as good a guess as any.

When the cake was done, Sophia excused herself to smoke and Daryl followed her out, both of them hovering around the bucket just beside the driveway.

"Good damn birthday?" Daryl asked.

Sophia smiled and took a drag off her cigarette.

"First one that I remember," Sophia said. "Had a picture one time of me eating some cake or something when I was a kid…don't remember that shit, though."

"Ya still a damn kid," Daryl said, turning his attention to a loose rock that was near his foot.

Sophia made a sound.

"I guess you could think that," she said. "I don't feel like a kid."

Now it was Daryl's turn to grunt.

"Somethin' we ain't got in common then," Daryl said. "No matter how fuckin' old I get I still feel like a damn kid half the fuckin' time. I don't think ya ain't never a kid. Ya get fuckin' old as shit, but'cha still a kid…just a damn kid caught up in a grown up body."

Sophia nodded at him but didn't say anything. He didn't know if she appreciated his attempt at some birthday wisdom or not.

"You sticking around a while?" Sophia asked. "Saw you brought in that box of beers. Might as well stay and drink them with Carol because I'm not old enough and if she drinks all that alone she's headed down the road of becoming Wren's drunk ass."

Daryl chuckled.

"Reckon I might hang around for one or two," he said.

Sophia smiled at him.

Daryl didn't really know what he was going to do about the beer. He'd listened to Merle and Wren talk to the point that on the way over there he'd almost convinced himself to go through with the crackpot plan he'd made up.

He'd figured he would hang around…suck down a couple of beers for some liquid damn courage…and then he might put the box of condoms smashed and shoved down in his pocket to good use.

Maybe if he just went for it and slept with the woman then it would be over. Whatever the hell it had been that had made him think about her damn smile and fucking blue eyes would be gone. In the end, if you fucked them, all women just ended up being the same any damn way.

But with Sophia around…well he didn't know exactly how that shit was going to play into the scenario.

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Daryl sat at the table, feeling a little nervous and sucking down his third beer quickly. Carol was at the stove, her back to him, cleaning something, though from time to time she came to the table and took a sip from the beer she had opened and spoke to him about some random topic or another.

Sophia had jumped ship on them just as soon as her ass had gotten back in from smoking. Apparently she had so much homework or some shit to get done that it couldn't wait and she was anxious to get on it, despite the fact that Carol had tried to talk her out of it and tried to talk her into a movie.

But Sophia had shit to do and finally Carol had given up. It was the kid's birthday, after all, and she was allowed to do whatever the hell she wanted within reason…and homework or whatever was reasonable.

Daryl got the sneaking suspicion, though, that the kid could read his mind and he felt like the little bitch was on his side or something, though he couldn't imagine any sixteen year old girl in her right mind wanting some random dude she only knew from a shop to come in with the plans of rubbing up on her mom.

Still, it seemed like she suspected something because she'd high tailed it out of there like her ass was on fire.

But now that they were alone, Daryl was trying to talk himself into it. He watched Carol as she moved from one project to the other, apparently oblivious to whatever Sophia had picked up on, and he studied her.

He didn't know if she'd want to fuck him, and that was an important piece of information. He didn't exactly consider himself a gentleman by any standard, but he didn't believe in fucking women that didn't want you to fuck them. That wasn't how he operated when he did decide, here and there along the way, that he was going to get a piece from someone.

So finally he bit the bullet and decided to see what was on her mind, if anything was on her mind.

Daryl sucked back the rest of the beer he had and got up, going to the fridge and getting another. He cracked the top on it and with the hiss Carol turned and looked at him over her shoulder, almost jumping a little, and smiled softly before she returned to mopping down the counters.

Daryl sucked down part of the beer and watched her. For some reason he thought she might be uncomfortable with his drinking and he wanted to insist to her that he could drink the whole damn twelve pack by himself before he was anywhere near what he saw on a daily basis from Merle or Wren.

But he didn't say anything. He took another swallow and crossed the kitchen, walking up behind her until he was flush against her.

Carol froze and tensed, staring at the counter she'd been mopping at and Daryl backed up a little, figuring that he'd been too close too quick and she might have gotten the wrong idea.

Daryl reached up and squeezed her shoulders and she tensed, her muscles hard. He figured she was nervous, but she hadn't exactly indicated that she didn't want any part of this yet. He moved his hands, sliding them down her arms. She seemed to relax a little, though she didn't say anything.

And Daryl felt the courage building in him from the beer, though he wished he'd had one or two more to knock the rest of the edge off.

He let his hands go to her waist, one on each hip, and he rolled her hips back bringing her flush against him again. His breathing was picking up whether he wanted it to or not, but he wasn't trying to hide it. He was hard and he knew she knew it…she might as well hear his breathing.

Daryl leaned in a little toward her, smelling her.

She didn't smell like dust or moth balls or any of the shit that Wren and Merle teased she'd smell like. She smelled like vanilla…almost good enough to eat, and Daryl smelled the place behind her ear, rolling her hips back against him again, her body now moving with more fluidity and more relaxation before he brought his lips to her ear.

"Ya call," he said in a low voice. "I go now or I can stay…whatever the hell ya want."

Carol let out a breath that he realized she'd been holding and her chest heaved. Daryl looked over her shoulder, glancing down inside the baggy sweater as best he could for any sign of cleavage.

"I don't think you want to," Carol said, her voice catching a little.

Daryl smirked to himself and rolled her hips back again, grinding himself into her ass.

"I think I wanna," he said. "If you do."

Daryl thought she was turning him down when she pulled away quickly and started out of the kitchen. He adjusted himself, cursing himself for even starting this shit because it was going to end badly, and started toward where he'd left the beer to suck the rest of it down, tell her there were no hard feelings, and roll out to get himself a fucking cold shower.

But she walked over, somewhat aloofly and locked the door, and then she stood there like she was waiting on him. She just stood there, looking expectant, while he finished the beer.

"What?" He growled finally.

Carol raised her eyebrows, her chest still heaving a little.

"Changed your mind already?" She asked.

Daryl smirked. He shook his head.

"I thought…the bedroom's this way. Sophia's just upstairs," Carol whispered. "It's quieter in there…if you haven't changed your mind."

Daryl reached in the fridge and grabbed another beer, cracking it open and following her without another word. He slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the crushed box in there, wondering if she'd have shit to say when she knew he'd come prepared for this. He wouldn't have normally been prepared, but this little event hadn't exactly been planned and put into his mind all on its own.

When the got to the bedroom, Carol shut the door and went immediately to the bed. Daryl looked around and peeled off his jacket, leaving his shirt on. He hoped he could get away with leaving it on too. His old man had been a dick about things when he was drunk and he'd left more than a fair share of stripes on Merle and Daryl both to remember him by. Merle didn't seem to mind that shit, but Daryl would just as soon nobody saw him without his shirt and most of the quick fucks he'd had in his life hadn't required him to ever peel it off.

Carol got on the bed fully clothed, the lights off so that the only light in the room was what filtered in from outside light somewhere, and Daryl came over to the bed, toeing out of his shoes as he came. He yanked the crushed box out of his pocket and tossed it on the crowded table beside the bed without a word.

Carol, who was lying on her back, glanced at it but didn't say anything.

"Ya gon' take ya pants off?" Daryl asked, sipping from his beer and putting it on the little table.

Carol nodded and lifted herself up enough to peel out of them, underwear and all, in one move. Daryl looked at her, stripped from the waist down, though he couldn't see too damn much in the dark. It seemed, though, that she wasn't going to be one to request more than the half undressed fuck and he was pleased with that. All he needed anyway was to get this out of his system and he could go back to the way he was before he'd even noticed her smile and her eyes.

Daryl shucked his own pants, figuring he'd at least give her that they'd both be stripped from the waist down, and he opened the box and put on a condom, dropping the wrapper on the table and not trying to hide the fact that he was already raging hard just at the anticipation of something he hadn't had in quite some time.

Daryl got on the bed and hovered over Carol, leaning down to kiss at her neck. He hadn't actually kissed her yet, even though they were both half stripped, and he brought his tongue out to lick her skin. She tasted good, though she didn't taste like the vanilla she smelled like.

He brought his mouth around and kissed her on the mouth. She responded, leaning her head up, her arms going around him, not questioning his shirt and not offering to remove her own.

Daryl wrestled her tongue with his roughly and when he pulled away he licked her throat and brought his tongue up her neck to her chin. He ran his hands up under the bulky sweater and she caught his wrists.

"Leave it on?" She asked.

Daryl stopped for a minute and then decided not to question it. It didn't matter anyway. He ran his hands under the sweater and found her bra, sliding his hands under it and squeezing her breasts. She moaned and turned her head to the side.

"How ya wanna do this?" Daryl growled. He didn't have a preference for positions, but he knew that some people were really picky about that shit.

"This is fine," she whispered back to him.

Daryl dipped his head, licking at her neck again while he squeezed the soft breasts he hadn't even seen in his hands and he felt himself growing even harder if it were possible. She bucked at him and he brought one hand out of its fabric hiding place and trailed it down her body, finding the soft hair and the warm wetness beyond.

And she fucking mewled at him when he rubbed her core, his fingertips rubbing over her clit. That was about all he and his set of blue balls could take from this shit.

"Ya ready?" He asked.

In response she moved one of the hands that she was gripping his shoulders with and grabbed him, making him hiss, and steered him toward her.

Daryl helped her the rest of the way and pushed into her, sinking all the way in before stilling. She was tight and her grunt coupled with the tightening of her fingers against his arm told him that he might be a gentleman and wait a minute. After all…there might be some truth to some of the shit that he'd heard Wren and Merle spew about her.

After a moment he felt her relax a little and wrap her legs around him so he let himself start to move. At first he set a slow pace and she matched him, but finally he knew it wasn't going to last. He took the low moans from her to mean that she was fine with that and he quickened his pace, reaching down to rub roughly at her clit and hoping she was getting whatever the hell she needed out of this since neither one of them could have been accused of wasting words at the moment.

He stilled for a moment after he came and then finally slipped out of her, shifting around to sit on the bed, his breath coming in ragged spurts that reminded him how much he smoked.

"Got a damn trash can?" He asked.

Carol rolled slightly and came up from beside the bed with a small trash can that he threw the discarded condom into.

Daryl ran his hand through his hair, still panting. He wasn't one for goodbyes and he wasn't one for long thank you speeches after a fuck. He didn't know if that's what she might expect.

"Are you gonna stay the night?" Carol asked.

Daryl grunted and got up, finding his boxer shorts in the semi darkness by kicking around with his feet. He pulled into them.

"I ain't the cuddlin' type," he said.

"I just meant because of the beer," Carol said. "I wasn't suggesting…"

She let her voice trail off and at the mention of the beer Daryl found the one that he'd put on the bedside table and sucked part of it down to quench the thirst that was building in him. He was maybe good to drive…maybe not…and he was pretty damn tired. He wasn't trashed, but his head felt cloudy and the bed there was plenty big for two people who'd just fucked to sleep without touching.

"Yeah," he said. "Fine…I'll be out 'fore Sophia wakes up."

Carol didn't respond in any way other than to move around and get under the cover, no more undressed than she'd been before and without restoring any of her discarded clothing. Daryl would have normally slept without his shirt, but he'd never actually slept in bed with a woman before and he didn't want the harsh light of morning revealing more about himself than he wanted to share with the woman, so he left it on and went around the bed.

Daryl got into the bed, pulling the cover up, and closed his eyes. The whole room smelled like her…or he smelled like her. Her scent and sex were the smells that filled his nostrils as he let himself drift off, feeling like he was floating along on the unfamiliar mattress.


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: Well, apparently I'm the fan fiction queen of awkward sexual encounters…I'm not sure what to do with that, but it is what it is. LOL Sorry about that? **

**Here's another little chapter for those of you who are wondering where our Carol is at the moment. I will give a warning that it might be awkward (depending on your sensitivities?) or it might be uncomfortable to get inside her mind for the moment. Remember, if you read my other stories, this is a (at least slightly) different Carol and Daryl we are dealing with. **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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Carol barely opened her eyes to slits after she felt the rocking sensation of Daryl easing out of the bed and heard his shuffling steps on the floor as he came around wrested into his pants and shoes.

She was careful for the moment to regulate her own breathing so that she wouldn't give away the fact that she was awake or that she'd been awake for some time now. She was an old hat at pretending that she was sleeping when she wasn't. She'd done it a million times, for a different reason, when Ed had lived with her.

_But Ed had almost always seen through it or he hadn't cared._

"_You're not asleep you stupid bitch!" He would yell. "Wake your sorry ass up if you are…"_

_Ed could hardly ever be fooled when she was sleeping and if she had ever actually slept through any of his grand entrances into the house then she'd have been in a coma or at declared legally dead. He never had tried his hand at stealth. _

_And sleeping or not he'd still drag her out the bed…do what he wanted with her. He had little concern with whether or not he woke her. He had little concern for her at all. _

At this moment the need to pretend that she was still sleeping came from the fact that she hadn't entirely sorted out her thoughts for herself. She didn't know what to expect from Daryl and what to expect from the morning…just as she also hadn't figured out exactly what she thought about the night before.

The dull ache between her legs reminded her that what she'd done was something she was unfamiliar with. She hadn't been with a man in any fashion since Ed had been gone, but even that didn't relate to what had happened the night before.

And even she wasn't sure what had happened.

Carol thought that Daryl was an attractive man. She would have figured it was hard pressed to find a purely heterosexual woman that couldn't find something about him attractive.

He had something of a baby face that she'd seen at times hidden behind the scruff of a two or three day old beard, and at other times shining in the glory of being freshly shaved.

And he was a strong man. She knew from last night that he was all lean and hard muscles.

He could have used a bath, that was true. A good scrub and a bottle of shampoo might have gone a long way for the man, but Carol figured from the looks of the men that he worked with that unwashed hair and stained skin might be a lifestyle choice of that kind of man. That or either the years spent working on cars like they did in the gray and black filth that she cleaned out of Sophia's tub after her showers had simply ended up staining them so that if they weren't dirty, they at least appeared to be.

And he could have used a haircut. His hair was long and shaggy and unkempt. It was the kind of hair that you wanted, on the one hand, to run your fingers through, and on the other to have a pair of scissors waiting to snip it off at the edge of your fingers.

But Daryl was an attractive man.

And he was a different kind of man than any man that Carol had ever known and had the opportunity to have any kind of interaction with.

Her father had been a clean cut businessman. The kind whose nails were even well cared for an every stitch of clothing was almost meticulously put in place and held there. Her father had been soft spoken, proper, and a man who had said very little that would turn the heads of anyone besides perhaps her mother.

Ed had been quite different too. He'd been gruff and callous. His language had been dotted with expletives, but expletives that she'd always learned to associate with anger. The use of certain words meant the promise of unwanted contact. Sometimes a fist, sometimes a bitter insult, sometimes unwanted sexual attention…but always something to make you close your eyes, hold your breath, and hope that it would be over soon.

Yet Daryl used expletives as freely as you might use adjectives, and Carol had yet to see one of them used in anger. He was rough around the edges, distant, but still there was something about him that made all of that less threatening than even her own nervous system initially reacted to.

And the night before, when he'd first touched her, the smell of sour beer on his hot breath clouding around her as he leaned in close to her, she'd been terrified for just a moment. Her brain had jumped back in hazy remembrance to all the times that Ed would come home…smelling of one thing or another…and as soon as his hands made contact with her she would simply hold her breath, close her eyes, and wait for him to do whatever it was his mind had decided was to be done.

Except the night before Daryl had growled into her ear, that same hot breath blowing on her, that it was her choice. He could stay or he could go, it was as simple as that.

_He'd given her the choice. _

She had only ever been with Ed before…hanging tight to the perhaps outdated belief that a woman's virtue was her virginity she'd held onto it until her wedding night. She'd thought that she'd done well. She'd be rewarded in her marriage as she'd handed it over, like a proper lady should, to her husband. She'd agreed to be subservient to him…agreed to be a good and obedient wife…agreed to play all the parts she was supposed to play and in return he would be her one and only husband…he'd be her protector, her lover, her hero.

_And that had gone so damn well for her…_

So when Daryl had put his hands on her hips…when he'd moved her body so that it made contact with his, a movement so simple yet so oddly _sexual_…when he hadn't hidden his erection and his interest…she hadn't quite known what to do with herself at first.

It was just a_ sexual_ thing.

But more than just a sexual thing, it was a sexual thing in which _she had the choice_. She called the shots. Yes or no and she was the one making the decision.

That kind of simple sexual act had never been one that she'd experienced before.

And she thought that Daryl was attractive, and there was certainly something sexual about the man though it was an odd kind of sexual quality…almost like one he was hardly aware of…one he had no control over.

But she wasn't sure that until last night she'd ever thought of Daryl as _sexually attractive_. In fact, she wasn't sure that she'd ever really thought of anyone that way. She hadn't thought of Ed that way…she'd never felt the things that she thought you were supposed to feel toward a man you were sexually attracted to. With Ed she'd been searching for a husband…she'd been searching for the man that she was supposed to marry and have children with…the man that would take care of her and be with her into their old age together. She'd gone about it more or less practically…any man would do that wanted to fill that position since she'd feared that there wouldn't be anyone for her. Ed had claimed that was his interest in her, and so they'd been married under the pretense of mutually searching for domesticity. It hadn't really been anything that one could even call an epic love affair, and it certainly hadn't been something based on sexual attraction.

She'd never _yearned_ to have sex with a man before. In fact, she'd decided that the so called yearning for sex…the need for it and the desire for it that women supposedly felt, and men too she supposed, simply upon seeing someone they were attracted to…was probably the stuff of myths and trashy romance novels that she consumed in private so as to not have Jacqui snicker over her choice of reading materials. It was a nice thought, but it wasn't reality.

She didn't know, though, what it was exactly…it may have been the question he asked, the control he'd given her...or it may have been the almost animalistic feeling of his attraction as he'd pushed himself against her, grinding into her body with some kind of desire and need_, requesting her permission_ to act upon it…but whatever it was, it had made her _want_ to have sex with him at the time.

And what she'd wanted in the moment was exactly what she got from him. Just sex…pure and animalistic sex. Nothing more between them than his simple wanting of her to open her legs to him and her deciding to do so.

There weren't romantic lies from either of them. There was no pretending from either of them that the contact was anything more than what it was. It wasn't like it had ever been with Ed for her. There was no thought, like it had been in the beginning with Ed, that this would somehow lead to forever. There was no thought that he was going to be some knight in shining armor for her…some hero from a fairy tale. There was no thought with Daryl like she'd had later in life with Ed…that maybe if she went through with the act he would learn to be happy with her…he would learn to like her at least for what she could give him.

And Daryl had promised nothing. He hadn't promised that the sex meant anything at all to him. In fact, he'd let it be known that it hadn't. He wasn't a cuddler. There would be no snuggling affection afterwards. There was likely to be nothing at all afterwards.

What came after hadn't mattered at all. It had all been about what was happening in the moment.

In the moment it had been pretty bad sex, admittedly, but Carol didn't blame Daryl for that. She'd heard about good sex…about mind blowing sex…about the kind of sex that made toes curl and hair curl and vision go black, but she'd figured that was just as much a myth as anything else. It was the stuff of the very same books she read. Nice to read about, but not realistic. That really wasn't what sex was and if you set yourself up for thinking that's what it would be…you'd already destined yourself to disappointment.

What sex really was…what the sex last night had been, was burning and stretching to accommodate his desire. It was need and it was desire for nothing more than the coming together of bodies. It had been the pooling heat of a possible orgasm never quite reached for her and one reached for him that was soon over and replaced by the practicality of the moment and the discarding of a used condom and figuring out where he'd sleep for the night.

Now though, the moment was gone and they were left with the whole situation of what to do now. When Carol cracked her eyelids open to regard Daryl again, he was sitting on the floor paying close attention to his shoes, apparently attempting to get a knot out of the laces.

And she was cowering under the covers of her bed, sore in many ways from the even that they'd both wanted to happen, and suddenly fully aware that those covers were the only thing that kept her from being naked and revealed to him.

But what do they do now?

Carol wasn't sure how this kind of thing worked. Was she supposed to thank him for the night before? Was he supposed to thank her? Were they supposed to just simply leave it as it was and say nothing?

It was still dark outside, though Carol didn't know the exact time, and she figured they were safe from the possibility of being caught by Sophia, but now it was creeping into her mind that the girl could wake up and become aware that Daryl had never left the night before and she wasn't sure how she might react to that.

She wasn't even really sure what the girl knew or didn't know about these things. After all, she was twice Sophia's age and this was her first experience with ever actually having done something like this.

And Daryl, who had finally worked the knot out of his laces and was putting his shoes on, still sitting in the floor, may not even know how to proceed from here, though his confidence the night before suggested that this might not be his first experience with a casual sexual thing.

Carol decided to give up the façade that she was sleeping and shifted a little, clearing her throat so as not to surprise Daryl if he wasn't expecting her to be awake.

Daryl glanced at her a second before returning his attention to the laces he was tying now.

"So ya up?" He asked. "Weren't tryin' ta wake ya."

Carol shifted and slid up, sitting and making sure that she remained covered by the blankets. She eyed her discarded pants and underwear on the floor and wished she'd thought to at least replace her underwear the night before. She didn't know if it was OK to ask a man who'd been inside her body only hours before to turn his head while she went for her clothes…

"You didn't wake me," Carol said. She eyed her pants again. "I…uh…don't sleep too much."

"Yeah…me neither," Daryl admitted. He shifted around and groaned a little, the sound of his knees popping was loud in the quiet room.

They were having casual conversation, and Carol thought that was good. At least that wasn't awkward. She hadn't known what to expect, but it seemed there wasn't anything to expect for the moment. He was simply getting dressed in relative silence. That was it.

He'd wanted to have sex with her, he'd asked her permission, and she'd chosen to have sex with him. They'd gone through with it and thankfully it had been dark enough, and his desire hadn't extended into a territory that required her to remove any more of her clothes than practically necessary, that he remained unaware of what Carol looked like. He hadn't even seen her…and she hadn't really seen him. They hadn't needed to look at each other too much for what they'd been doing. And both of them, the act done, had slept.

It was over and done with and there was no need for a show of any kind. Carol felt oddly relieved, though she felt a little guilty that she'd gone and done something that she'd always frowned on other women for doing. Her parents had taught her that casual sex…sex with a man that she wasn't married to…was something shameful.

But her parents were dead and she'd wanted to do it. She felt guilty but a little exhilarated at the same time. It was a feeling she couldn't remember ever having before, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

Daryl didn't say anything else for the moment. He walked quietly into the bathroom and relieved himself, the door still open.

Carol, catching him out of the room, took the opportunity to move as quickly as she possibly could and wrestle into her underwear and pants. She ignored the ache in her shoulder that told her that it might have suffered a little for some of her actions last night.

By the time that Daryl came out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his pants, Carol was buttoning her own pants. She glanced up at him, catching his eye, and he held the look for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip.

"I could make coffee," she offered. "There's cake…I could make some toast…eggs…we have cereal."

Carol didn't know what she was supposed to say or even if it was kosher to try to feed the man breakfast, but she figured she'd at least offer.

Daryl nodded his head slightly.

"Yeah…coffee's good," he said. "Gotta get down ta the shop 'fore too long an' open up."

Carol nodded and ran her fingers through her hair, scratching it in different directions…the completion of what was most of her typical beauty routine.

"Coffee it is," she said. She smiled at him and he offered her a half smile in return. Maybe that was all the thanks that was necessary for what had happened the night before. Maybe he understood that she didn't know if there was some special thing she was supposed to say…and she didn't know if she could really say anything about it without feeling at least a little embarrassed.

Carol eased through the house, noticing that Sophia was definitely still asleep. Carol wasn't going to wake her if she could avoid it. She'd rather the girl not know, for the time being, that Daryl had stayed. She wasn't sure she was ready to answer any questions the girl might have about that, and she certainly didn't want to lead by example if what she'd done was as wrong as she'd been taught it was.

Daryl followed along behind her and she stepped to the counter to switch on the coffee pot. Carol watched as Daryl unlocked the door casually and stepped out. Through the window she watched him step into the driveway and light a cigarette, running his fingers through his hair and staring out toward the road.

She'd make coffee…she'd have coffee with him…and she'd try to talk him into toast or something before he headed off to the shop that he and Sophia both seemed to hold so dear for whatever reason.

And she'd clean up the beer cans scattered around, the cake crumbs and spilled gravy from the night before. She'd wash the smell of sex off her body.

And she'd wake Sophia in time for the girl to get ready for them to make the trip to the school to talk about Sophia's suspension. She'd change hats and go back to what she was, what she was comfortable with. Last night had been something different for her, a change from the ordinary, and a change from the ordinary she was trying to build with Sophia.

But that's really all it had been. It had been simply a sexual thing. The slowly rising sun would make it into an awkward cup of coffee with a man she was barely acquainted with. And then it would fade into the background along with all the other experiences she'd ever had and tucked away to think about when there was nothing else to think about.


End file.
